Letting Go
by Amaryllis3121
Summary: Howard commits unexpected suicide, leaving Vince to attempt to pick up the pieces and move on with his life. But will Naboo and Bollo be able to help him let go? Or will Vince's determination to bring Howard back be its own reward?
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello 'Boosh fans! Well, this is my very first 'Boosh fanfic, but I have been obsessively studying the programme for a good couple of weeks (I mean it's on literally every moment I'm awake) so I hope I've done it some justice.**_

_**Uh, now here's the thing- I have, in fact, mutilated the 'Boosh with my sad, angst-filled mind. So basically, this is probably going to end up being rather dark. The other thing is that I only have the first series on DVD and as a result I've only seen the other two series about twice online, so Vince is going to be more like himself from the Zooniverse rather than himsef from series 2/3, even though it takes place after the last series ends (it isn't just me who thinks that Vince was a little bit different in series 2 is it? Still completely amazing, but slightly different although I can't put my finger on why).**_

_**And one final note before I begin- this story is, as mentioned in the summary, about Vince attempting to cope with Howard's unexpected suicide. Now, suicide is a touchy subject and a difficult one to handle with all the sensitivity it deserves. I don't mean to offend anyone or anything like that and, speaking as someone who has lost her fair share of loved ones and been in an alarmingly dark place herself more than once, I hope I can portray it fairly accurately. If something doesn't strike right, it's most likely down to bad writing, I'm afraid, and I apologise in advance for that.**_

**_Alright, so on to the story then- here goes..._**

* * *

The weather was foul, as always, but Vince barely gave a second thought about his new boots and the effect the rainwater might have on them as he splashed through the puddles. He was far too caught up in his excitement, desperate to reach Howard and share with him his latest plan to achieve stardom. And for once, it included the pair of them- a team, just like in the old days.

He slammed the door of the Nabootique behind him, grinning wildly.

"Howard?" he called into the empty shop. Naboo emerged from behind the counter, frowning and yet still managing to look calm and placid in a way only the tiny shaman could.

"Shh! He's having a lie-in!"

"A lie in?" Vince repeated in disbelief, the grin sliding from his face. Since when did Howard sleep in?

"Yeah, he said he wasn't well last night so I didn't bother to wake him this morning."

"What are you on about? He was fine when I left."

A strange feeling of disquiet had settled in the pit of Vince's stomach. There had been a pretty bad argument the previous night and he was sure Naboo couldn't have failed to hear, no matter how high he might have been at the time.

"You can go and wake him if you want and see if he's okay."

Vince nodded. "Alright, cheers Naboo," he said, even though he was going to do just that with or without the shaman's permission.

Quickly, he crossed the shop and mounted the stairs, but then Naboo stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait, Vince?"

Vince cringed inwardly, knowing what he was about to ask. He fixed a smile in place and turned to face him.

"Yeah?"

"That argument last night sounded pretty bad. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it was nothing really. Just bickering."

"Bollo found a smashed teacup by the fridge."

"Oh, that?" Vince said, his one braincell working quicker than it had in years. "I dropped it last night. Must have forgotten to clean it up before I went out."

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" Naboo pried. But they both knew he already had the answer.

"No, honestly, everything's fine."

"Alright, just make sure it doesn't happen again, yeah?"

"Yeah. Sorry Naboo."

Naboo didn't respond, just gave a half-nod and turned back to the shop.

"Oi, you ball-bag! You've got mud everywhere!"

Vince ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time and striding down the hallway of the flat. He hesitated outside his and Howard's shared bedroom.

Surely he wouldn't still be angry? They were best friends, closer than the average man and wife. But Howard had been known to hold extraordinarily long grudges, something Vince had never really understood. His own anger had dissipated moments after setting foot outside, but he had thought it best to give Howard some time to cool down before he returned to deliver his inevitable apology. He hadn't actually intended to leave it quite so long, but he had been dragged out to an all-night party whilst killing time at Leroy's. Although it was probably better if he didn't bring that up to Howard.

Holding his breath, he knocked loudly. When he didn't receive an answer, Vince pushed the door open cautiously and entered the room. It was surprisingly dark for midday- the thick curtains were drawn, obscuring the sunlight, and there were no lights on. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom and then crossed to where Howard lay, sleeping in his bed.

It took him almost five minutes of shaking him and shouting his name before Vince realised that something was seriously wrong with Howard. The realisation came like an icy chill, creeping up his spine and curling around his ribcage, squeezing and squeezing until his hands were shaking and his breath caught in his throat. There had been something niggling in the back of his mind since he had entered the room. Something so terribly amiss but difficult to place.

Howard snored. Every night, without fail. Vince should know- they had been sharing bedrooms for a good many years now, since they first moved into the keeper's hut at the Zooniverse. Not one night had passed without Howard's loud snoring and eventually, Vince had learned to take comfort in the sound.

So where was it now?

With shaking hands, he grasped the edge of the duvet and pulled it back, fearing what might lie beneath. For a moment, everything seemed normal, but then Vince saw something that made his heart skip a beat and he rushed to turn on the light so he could see better.

Returning to Howard's bedside, Vince lifted up the corner of the pillow to seek out the rest of the object peeking out from underneath the soft fabric. His immaculately painted nails scrabbled against the small plastic bottle as he battled to free it from where it lay entrapped beneath Howard's heavy head.

Dread rooted him to the spot as he read the label slowly, recognising it to be the bottle for Howard's sleeping medication. Numbly, he unscrewed the cap, fighting against the child lock. Eventually he got it open and peered inside. Empty.

In a slow motion that would have been almost comical under different circumstances, Vince's eyes travelled to his best friend and he looked at the still figure properly for the first time since he had entered the room.

He tried to call for Naboo, but the shaman's name crumbled in his throat as his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, the volume of his shout surprising even him.

"NABOO!" he screamed, tone coloured with panic. And then, just like that he was back in action, pulling at Howard's arm and desperately trying to remember how to take a pulse.

"What's going on?" Naboo asked urgently, rushing into the room.

"It's Howard! I think he's overdosed!" Vince cried desperately. Naboo crossed the room quickly and snatched up the pill bottle, reading the label swiftly and then taking Howard's arm from Vince's vice-like grip. After a moment of prodding at his wrist and listening at his chest, he turned back to Vince, wearing a sombre expression. The least relaxed Vince had ever seen him look, he realised.

"He's dead, isn't he?" he asked simply, feeling a crushing weight in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Vince," Naboo answered solemnly. "There's nothing I can do- he's been gone for too long."

"Yeah." Vince's voice was subdued and flat, empty of the blind optimism it usually held. There was still one question nagging at him and he felt the unfamiliar sensation of guilt rise in his throat. Or maybe he was just going to cry. "Naboo, was this... you know?" he hesitated, unsure of the right word. "Was it deliberate?"

The question had tumbled out before he could stop himself, which he had intended to do. But it seemed his conscience needed to know, one way or another.

"Do you really want to know?" Naboo asked cautiously. Vince could already infer the answer from that, but he nodded anyway. "Then let me put it this way- this bottle was a new prescription. It would have been full yesterday."

So he had taken them all, to ensure it was done right. No mistakes. He really had wanted to die.

Vince had always been an upbeat person, and more than a little naïve, which was why he had never been able to understand how someone could reach a point in their life where they didn't want to live any more. He had always unconsciously dismissed it when he saw stories of suicide on the news or read about it on the odd occasion he picked up a newspaper because he simply didn't like to think about the fact that anyone could become that miserable. It was a frightening thought, and now it was staring him in the face.

He realised that he had no idea how to handle it, so instead he blocked it out as always- because if there was one thing Vince Noir hated, it was being unhappy- and instead looked Naboo directly in the eye and tried to instil a positive tone into his voice.

"But Howard's died before, yeah? So all we have to do is go through your magic mirror thing and rescue him again."

Naboo shook his head unhappily. "Sorry Vince, but the Shaman Council made a ruling. The afterlife is out of bounds. They've destroyed all means of transport between the two worlds."

Vince was crushed, but he tried not to show it.

"Oh, come on Naboo. We just have to find another way to get there."

"Vince, there isn't another way," Naboo insisted firmly, and Vince knew he was being honest. "I'm sorry, but Howard's gone for good this time."

The wording was harsh, but it drove the point home. Vince nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt thick and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. If he didn't get out of the room, he'd probably have a breakdown there and then. He needed an excuse and so he blurted the first thing that came into his head.

"I've just got to go and... polish the sink," he mumbled dejectedly, hurrying into the hallway with his head ducked so the shaman didn't as the first tear trickled down his cheek.

* * *

_**So there it is. Uh... I hope you enjoyed it, if enjoyed is the word. I'm not convinced that I have one hundred percent confidence in this fic, so reviews would be nice, just as an indicator of whether or not to continue. Critism is welcome, of course, particularly if it's constructive :).**_

_**Thanks!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hello :). Sorry it's taken so long to update, but (I don't know if anyone else has noticed) FF's being a prick and won't let me sign in half the time. The other half of the time, it hasn't been letting me upload anything :(. But it's here now anyways, and a massive thank you to my reviewer- I really appreciate your feedback and would find your review and mention you by name but daren't for fear that something else will crash :/.**_

* * *

Vince spent the next three hours locked in the bathroom. At first he cried, but they were shallow tears, more from shock than grief. Inside he was just numb. So the other two hours and forty minutes were spent staring despondently at the wall, trying to organise his thoughts- which were jumbled at the best of times- and get to a place where he could think clearly.

It wasn't working. Mostly because there was one thought, one awful, dreadful conclusion that reverberated around his mind and blocked everything else out.

It was his fault.

And then, finally, he realised that without starting from the beginning, without thinking _everything_ through, he wouldn't be able to clear his head. So he settled himself against the wall, closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember.

_It had started with their usual back and forth, mindless bickering and minor disagreements, but then it had become something more. Fuelled by Howard's inexplicable foul mood and Vince's annoyance at being snapped at every time he opened his mouth, the argument had grown until, without knowing how, they had ended up positioned at either end of the room- Vince in the open-plan kitchen, Howard pacing restlessly in the space between the sofa and the far wall of the living room- screaming at each other for what seemed like nothing._

_They were both furious. Vince was slightly worried that Howard might turn violent, and that was why he had retreated into the kitchen area. He was incredibly confused too. He simply didn't understand what he had done to warrant such a vicious and sudden attack from his best friend._

"_You're selfish, Vince!" Howard was bellowing. "It's always got to be about you, hasn't it? Everything's fine so long as Vince Noir gets his way. That's how it works around here, isn't it?"_

"_You can talk!" Vince shot back angrily. "I'm Howard Moon," he mimicked. "Everyone _hates _me! Everyone's out to get me! But not to worry, because _I'm_ going to be rich and famous one day and stuff everyone else! In fact, I'm so fucking unhappy, I'm going to make everyone else's lives a misery because I can't make anything out of mine!"_

_That was when the teacup had soared in his direction, narrowly missing his right ear. It smashed on the side of the fridge and Vince stared down at it in shock before looking up to meet Howard's gobsmacked face._

"_Vince..." He didn't need to say any more. It was there in his tone. He hadn't meant to throw the cup. It was just a poor decision, made in the heat of the moment. He hadn't been thinking clearly._

_But neither was Vince. The red mist had descended and overridden his forgiving nature. Howard had resorted to violence. He had tried to _hurt_ him._

"_You've gone wrong, Howard," he said softly, his voice quivering with rage and more than a little sadness. "Really wrong." He began to stalk off, but Howard caught up to him before he could get down the hallway. He grabbed Vince's arm and turned him around so they were face to face._

"_Vince, please."_

"_Get off me you fucking psychopath!"_

_Vince stared defiantly into his possibly-former friend's eyes, not sure whether or not to be afraid. It was funny- he had never found Howard's height advantage to be intimidating before._

"_I'm sorry," the taller man pleaded. "Come on, you know I'm not a violent man."_

"_Really? Because I'm pretty sure you just chucked a cup at my head," Vince said scathingly._

"_I said I'm sorry, didn't I?"_

"_Sorry isn't a magic word that suddenly makes everything better, Howard." Vince had never heard himself sound so cold._

"_Look, Vince, I'm in a bad place right now, okay?" Howard sighed. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you, I know it's not your fault. But I could really use your support."_

"_Whatever," Vince scoffed, wrenching his arm from Howard's grasp and turning away._

"_Come on, Vince. You know it isn't easy for me to express my emotions."_

_Vince half-turned on the spot to give Howard a withering glare._

"_Yeah? Well you're pretty good at angry."_

_Howard sighed and slouched back into the living room. He sank down on the couch and put his head in his hands, rubbing his face._

"_I'm at the end of my tether, Vince. I don't know what to do any more. I'm useless, I'm no good at anything. And it makes it all the more difficult to watch you swanning around, succeeding at everything you do."_

_If it had been another day, another hour, even just mere moments before Howard had thrown that cup, Vince would have taken a seat next to Howard, wrapped his arm around his shoulder and reassured him that he was the man and he'd find his niche in life eventually. But it wasn't another day, nor another hour, nor was it before Howard had thrown the cup and so, as far as Vince was concerned, at that moment in time Howard was absolutely not his friend._

"_Fine then. If my success upsets you so much then maybe it's for the best if we stop being mates. You're a downer anyway."_

"_That's not what I'm saying, Vince. I just... I don't feel like _me_ any more. I think..." he paused. "I think I might end it if things don't change soon."_

_In his anger, Vince was deaf to the hidden, and genuine, emotion Howard's words held._

"_Oh, stop being over-dramatic. You're always doing this- twisting things around so it seems like you're not in the wrong."_

"_I'm deadly serious this time."_

_Something about that statement really struck a cord in Vince, but it wasn't a nice one. He was absolutely sick of the way Howard always seemed to turn into the victim in each of their arguments and left Vince feeling guilty for wrongs he hadn't even committed._

"_Good. If you're that 'deadly serious' then do it. Off yourself. Put us all out of our misery."_

_And with that, he had turned his back on his friend and stormed down the stairs, already regretting his hurtful words._

It had been the last time Vince would ever see Howard alive, he realised miserably. Upon reflection, he knew exactly what he should have done. He should have turned around, returned to Howard's side, and offered him the companionship he had so obviously needed. But, of course, his pride would never have allowed that. He had won the argument as far as he was concerned and so, as with every other argument, he would stay out of Howard's way for a few hours and then return, full of apologies and hopes of forgiveness.

Maybe if he hadn't gone to Leroy's and allowed himself to be dragged along to that party, he would have made it home in time to stop Howard. But he honestly hadn't believed there was any real danger. If he had thought for a second that perhaps Howard _wasn't_ just being over-dramatic, there wasn't a hope in hell that he would have left the flat. He would have stayed by his friend's side, talked him through it, cheered him up. They would have been awake half the night, crimping, telling stupid jokes and they might even have had a satsuma fight or two.

But Vince would never be able to show Howard how much he cared now. The one time Howard was relying on him and he could actually have been some use and he messed it up. He had let him down and that mistake had cost Howard his life.

Vince had no idea how to react to these negative thoughts so, as he had earlier, he pushed them aside and stored them away, something he had perfected in all his years of being The Sunshine Kid. But normally the negative thoughts only went so far as the odd rude comment directed to him in the street or, on a couple of rare occasions, an item of ruined clothing. There had never been anything of this magnitude inside his happy head before, and he found it all quite terrifying.

Very slowly, he climbed to his feet and crossed to the mirror, leaning heavily on the sink as he looked into it. He was unsurprised at his bedraggled appearance, but it still gave him an unpleasant little jolt and he suddenly felt even less like himself than he had a few moments before, if that was possible. Surprisingly shakily, he turned on the cold tap and splashed the cool water across his face, washing away his smudged eye make up and the tear tracks that were making his cheeks feel so rigid.

For a moment he simply stared into the mirror, taking in his familiar features and trying to decide what was so different about himself. And then he met his own soft blue gaze and felt a little stab of sorrow when he realised how downcast it seemed, full of a heavy, inexpressible emotion that even he couldn't place. Somehow, he had already grasped the situation. Processed it, understood it. But he just hadn't felt it yet and he was more than a little bit afraid of the moment that it would catch up to him.

* * *

_**So that's that bit done. I must now force myself to write chapter three. I also feel obliged to tell you that this story DOES have a happy ending, but that's all I can tell you otherwise it'll spoil the twist I have planned :). Reviews, even ones to criticise, are really appreciated. Thanks :).**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Good evening everyone :). I apologise for slow updates, but I've found myself rather lacking internet of late. Still, I'm here now, so lets roll on, yes? I feel I must warn you though, this chapter's quite sad. I suppose. And OOC in my opinion. But these aren't normal circumstances I suppose, and so I shall pretend like that's intended, 'kay? :D.**_

* * *

It took him five hours. At half past three, he emerged from the bathroom, determined to continue on as normally as possible. So, under the concerned gazes of Naboo and Bollo, he took a seat on the couch, picked up the latest, recently-delivered issue of _Cheekbone Magazine _and leafed through it, pretending to get absorbed in all the usual articles he read and casually glossing over anything that could remind him of Howard. It took him an hour in total to finish "reading" it, although he had absorbed absolutely nothing and could barely recall the last article by the time he had snapped it shut.

He had been taking his time, dragging out his reading so that neither of his remaining flatmates would attempt to engage him in conversation, but he had been feeling Naboo's eyes on him for some time now and he knew he was being too obvious- ordinarily, it would have taken him twenty minutes tops to devour his favourite magazine (and yet Howard still dubbed him as a borderline simpleton, just because he couldn't- or, more accurately, didn't like to- read ordinary books).

A lump rose in his throat when a little voice in the back of his head reminded him that Howard would never say anything of the sort again. He choked back the sudden surge of emotion and gave what he believed to be an inconsequential sniff to disguise the fact that he was almost in tears again, but of course, Naboo picked up on it immediately. Casting around for something to do, he stood and headed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

Automatically, he pulled two cups from the cupboard. Knowing that it wouldn't have escaped the notice of Naboo _or_ Bollo, he turned to them.

"Tea?" he asked.

"Yes please," Bollo grunted.

"Yeah, alright," Naboo nodded.

Vince took a third cup and flicked the kettle on. While he was waiting for it to boil, he leaned against the counter top and took advantage of his face being hidden by allowing his expression to drop. This felt wrong. Everything was just empty without Howard.

Somehow, the next four hours passed without incident. But then, come half seven, Naboo and Bollo went out to DJ.

For the twenty minutes, Vince busied himself by standing in front of the mirror and trying on different clothes. But it wasn't the same without Howard teasing him about anything from his vanity to his shoes. So he swapped to tidying their room.

It took him three quarters of an hour to finish. All the while, he was determinedly not thinking about Howard, keeping his back firmly turned on his side of the room and not daring to venture over the white duct-tape line that separated their areas.

Vince would have been alright, had it not been for the jazz record he found tucked in with his CDs. If Howard had been there, he would have thrust it at him and insisted he keep his jazz from poisoning his own music, but Vince simply stared at it, dumbfounded.

Eventually, he plucked up the courage to touch it and lifted it from the box carefully. For a moment, he just held it, fondling the grooves absently. This was one of Howard's favourites. How many times had Vince shouted at him for playing it too loudly? And now he would never get another chance to listen to it. It wasn't fair.

Anger welled inside him. It bubbled up, clawing at his chest, and before he could contain himself he had flung the record at the wall. He watched it shatter, breathing heavily, half-blinded by tears. But the anger subsided as quickly as it had come, being replaced by deep, burning shame. What was he doing? Howard might be gone, but that didn't give him any right to smash up his stuff, did it?

Trembling uncontrollably, Vince collapsed onto his bed, eyes fixed on the spot where the record had smashed. He blinked, and the tears fell, sliding down his cheeks and soaking into the collar of his shirt. The broken pieces lay on Howard's rumpled duvet. That image in itself was just wrong. Howard would never leave his bed unmade.

His head hit the pillow before he had even registered lying down and he turned to face the wall. He couldn't take it. It hurt too much, knowing Howard wasn't about to walk through the door. He wasn't going to moan, tut, sigh, make his bed, clean up the record. He wouldn't sulk, or refuse to cook dinner, or even stomp out as he had on a couple of occasions. He wouldn't force Vince to pay for the record or threaten to damage one of his Numan CDs in return.

Vince was suffocating. He had to be. He couldn't breathe. His chest was too tight. It felt like something was trying to fight its way out. He felt wrong, like he couldn't be happy. He was finally complete without Howard. This was his missing piece- the misery.

Sobs shook his body. He didn't know how long he lay there, soaking the pillow with tears, but it must have been a while, because he heard Naboo and Bollo return home, felt their footsteps in the hall, heard a voice calling out for him. He tried desperately to stifle his grief, but it wouldn't quieten.

And then the door opened and someone crossed the room. There was a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn, to show his face. It was Bollo. Vince allowed himself to be comforted by the gorilla. Hairy arms wrapped around him and he wept into his shoulder, cried until there was nothing left to cry, and then sobbed some more. Dry, tearless sobs.

Bollo rubbed soothing circles in his back. Vince had never felt more like a child in his life. None of it was enough though. He wanted Howard. He missed his feeble attempts at cheering him up. He wanted the unconvincing words of encouragement, the feeble smiles, the gestures Vince knew he didn't believe in himself.

It was more than that though. He felt... ashamed. Ashamed that he hadn't seen it in his friend. Ashamed that he had shunned him when he needed help most. Ashamed because this was all his fault and all he could do was cry like a baby.

But finally, after what felt like an age, he was calming, able to take control of himself again. He looked up at Bollo, eyes dry and stinging. He almost felt embarrassed, but didn't have the energy.

"Don't tell Naboo?"

"Naboo saw," Bollo grunted. "Gone to find sleeping potion."

"I'm fine," Vince said with a sniff. "I'll _be_ fine," he corrected.

"Go to bed," Bollo advised. "I'll tell Naboo you fell asleep."

"Thanks Bollo." Vince managed a weak smile. The last thing he needed was Naboo fussing over him. He preferred it when the shaman kept his distance at times like this.

"Goodnight Vince."

Bollo stood and crossed to the door.

"Night," Vince called after him. He let out sigh and fell back on the pillow as the door was closed. He didn't want to think, so he reached for his iPod, put in his headphones, and turned up Gary Numan as loud as it would go, concentrating on the music and not allowing his mind to stray.

Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

_**Alright, so that wa that. Hankies all round, yeah? :P. Uh, I just want to say a massive thanks to all my reviewers, favourites and alerts :D.**_

_**BatsNotDogs- First off, I love your name :). And thank you for your kind words :). Unfortunately, there probably won't be Howaince, but still, please don't stop reading :D. I too adore them as a couple and think that the end of Party was rather sweet and quite hilarious. "I'll never love again!" xD. Also, I have a question for you. Is your seat ACTUALLY metaphorical or were you sat down when you wrote that review? 'Cause I reckon you're telling fibs ;). Oh, and I took your advice and am now the proud owner of all three series'. Serieses. Series'. In fact, it's probably just "series". Either way, thanks for that :).**_

_**Concupiscence66- Congratulations on your impossible-to-spell name :D. But most importantly, do not fear! I apologise for pureeing your heart, I'm just violent like that, it's how I roll ;). But I have planned an ending that will leave you fulfilled and happy. I hope. Although, thinking about it, it's not exactly a plan. More like a vague idea. To be honest, I don't actually know where this is going, but I don't think I can cope without having a happy ending, so doubtlessly there will be one. As soon as I think Vince has suffered enough, of course :D.**_

_**AlKiMi- I thrive off angst, didn't you know? So no tears here, only sick delight ;). Only kidding- I do hate to see poor Vincey suffer. I do love Vince. Noel Fielding, obviously :D. But yeah, just you wait, it will get happy again, I promise. So you can chuck your tissues away in celebration :D. Or don't, actually, 'cause as previously mentioned, I'm not sure where this is going, so it might end up being a bit more... angsty. I'm not sure. So yeah, better to have tissues and not need 'em than to need 'em and not have 'em ;).**_

_**Right, I've gotta go. I need a lie down or something. Logging on to all these fantastic reviews have sent me a bit giddy. Yeah. But thatnk you again and farewell- please keep the reviews coming, I really love to hear from you guys, even if you hate my story :D. SO llng as you're constructive, reviewing would be far better than silently hating it, don't you think? :D.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Look at this! Two whole updates for you, in two days, because I feel bad for neglecting you all previously :). Uh... this is quite sad, actually. Like, really sad. It even got to me. So sorry about that. AlKiMi- feel glad you kept those tissues to hand!**_

_**But I reckon this is the lowest chapter. It's all up from here, slowly but surely. And I have a bit of lightheartedness planned for Chapter Six, so just this chapter and the next to go, yeah, and then it's time for... That's right, TONY HARRISON AND SABOO! Because you just can't have a 'Boosh fic without them. In my opinion, anyway. But first, get your tissues out, because this might be a rough one... :'(.**_

* * *

It the sudden silence as his iPod ran out of songs that woke Vince up. There was a full two minutes of blissful ignorance before Vince remembered what had happened the previous day, and then a crushing weight fell on him as his stomach dropped and his chest began to ache.

He rolled out of bed, noting vaguely that he was still wearing his clothes from two days before. Taking less time than usual, but still being careful to maintain his appearance, he dressed. He didn't straighten his hair, or apply make up, because there was little point. He had no intention of leaving the flat, nor work in the shop.

Naboo and Bollo were in the front room again, getting high- nothing new there.

"Morning," Naboo said casually, casting a critical eye over Vince. "You're up early."

"Yeah," Vince said vaguely. He didn't bother to offer an explanation, nor ask for the time. It didn't really matter. "Aren't you opening up the shop?"

"It's your turn."

"Really?" Vince asked, mildly surprised. He must have lost track of the days... again.

There was a short silence while Vince began to make himself a cup of tea. Then...

"How are you feeling?"

The question was asked carefully, as though Naboo was afraid of setting Vince off. He was mildly incensed.

"I'm _fine_," he insisted defiantly. "I was just a bit emotional yesterday because I was so tired."

"You weren't just emotional. You were hysterical," Naboo replied, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well that was last night, wasn't it?" Vince snapped. He stomped toward the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going? What about the shop?"

"You can shove the shop. I'm going to my room."

Before Naboo could reply, he had stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. It only took a couple of minutes for him to calm down and start to regret his behaviour. Naboo was only looking out for him. Even though it didn't seem like it sometimes, he did have a good heart.

Ten minutes later, Vince dared to venture back out of his room. There was nobody in the front room now, so he was able to retrieve his phone from the kitchen island, where it had lay since his argument with Howard.

There were four texts. Three were from Leroy. One telling him that he had forgotten his keys- not that he'd even noticed, with everything going on- another calling him out on not replying, which was fairly out of character for him, and a third that was slightly more worried. Vince texted a quick reply, not quite bringing himself to break the news to Leroy, as if telling someone would make it too real.

Then, with that done, Vince hovered over the last message. It was from Howard.

Howard barely ever texted Vince. On the odd occasion he did, it was usually because he couldn't reach him by phone. But there were no missed calls this time. Only this message.

His breath caught in his throat as he selected the message. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. It hadn't once crossed his mind that Howard might have left a note, but there it was, staring him in the face. And it was bloody long, too, which made it all the more difficult to read.

**Sorry, Vince. I would have rung, but I think you've left your phone behind and in any case, I don't think I could say any of this directly. I don't know whether you've found me yet, but I suppose I should tell you anyway, just in case. I'm dead. Well I'm not now, obviously, but I will be by the time you get home. Or well on my way, anyway. I've already taken the pills, in case you have got your phone and think you can come and stop me. I might not even get to the end of this message, to be fair, since it's taking me a while to type. These bloody phones, eh? But I want to write this properly. None of this text speak nonsense. These will be my last written words, after all. And it seems only appropriate that I send them to you.**

**Well, Vince, what can I say? I'm sorry for tonight, I really am. I think you need to know that I would never hurt you deliberately. That cup was a heat of the moment thing, you know how I can get with my temper. I also think you need to know that you're my best mate. I know that's a given, since there's only really Lester aside from you and he's a bit of a berk (please don't tell him I said that), but I wanted to make sure there's no doubt. You've always been there when I needed you and I know we have our disagreements, but you always come through for me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. The simplest way of putting it is that you don't treat me like shit, like everyone else does. And I couldn't have found a better mate if I tried, so thank you. I know you didn't mean what you said, and I think you probably already regret it. And I forgive you. So don't you dare go blaming yourself, alright? I don't blame you at all, so neither should you.**

**I've got to go now, this is taking up about ten messages and I don't know how much credit I've got left. You're right- I should have bought a contract phone. There's still so much left to say, but I've got the important bit down and one day, when you're an old man joining me in the afterlife, I'll tell you the rest. Thank you for making my life so much brighter. I'm so sorry that it wasn't enough. But please, for me, stay happy? And please, stay alive for as long as you can. You're a gift to the world, Vince. Don't go doing anything stupid, alright?**

**Oh God, here comes the difficult bit. I'm actually crying, I can't believe it. I love you, Vince. You're a fantastic mate and I really hope the rest of your life is as brilliant as the bit that I've been honoured enough to see. In fact, it will be better, because I won't be around to hold you back (and you can thank me for that when you finally join me). I really have got to go now. My phone's starting to freeze up. It can't cope with all this typing. You were right about that too, my phone is shit. That what I get for choosing a Blackberry, eh? I'd happily throw it out of the window right now. In fact, that's something you could do for me if you wanted. I know how much you hate Blackberrys. But yeah, I think that's everything I need to say. The rest can wait. Oh, and I'm sorry for every bad thing I've done to you or said to you. I've been a selfish person, I know. I can't help it sometimes. But I hate myself for it now, and that's partly why I'm doing this. I just can't stand to be me any longer. Goodbye, Vince. I'll always be grateful for your friendship. And please, PLEASE, don't blame yourself, alright? This isn't your fault and I just can't stress that enough.**

**Goodbye xxx.**

By the time he got to the kisses, Vince was almost in tears. He was rooted to the spot, just staring at the impossibly long message, unable to believe that it was the last contact Howard would ever have with him. Then he set the phone down numbly, folding his arms on the counter top and resting his head on them.

It was too much for him to handle. It wasn't fair. Why did it have to happen to them? They had been happy, a nice little family, a proper gang. They had been doing alright, Vince thought. But now everything was all messed up and nothing could put it right. Nothing. If only one of them had noticed, or taken Howard seriously. Even his text sounded cheerful though, and he was dying when he wrote that, Vince thought bitterly. He had been a better actor than any of them had realised, it seemed.

He didn't even know if he was crying. His eyes were watering and his cheeks felt damp and there was something warm soaking into his sleeves so it was a safe assumption. But it didn't feel like he was crying. He didn't have a lump in his throat. He wasn't choked up or sobbing or anything. It just felt like he was leaking from his eyes and he had absolutely no control over it.

"I miss you, Howard," Vince sighed, raising his head slightly and directing his words to his phone. It was all he could do. The text was his last link to Howard, and now all he wanted to do was text him back, or ring him, or just talk to him somehow. He didn't even have to see him. He just wanted his voice, his _words_. Anything. He just wanted to communicate. "Why'd you have to go and kill yourself, you peanut?"

"Who's a peanut?" Naboo asked, arriving at the top of the stairs. Vince jumped. He hadn't even heard his footsteps.

"No one," he replied, unable to look at him. "Sorry, Naboo, by the way."

"Do you know what I think?" Naboo asked, crossing the room to stand in front of Vince.

"No."

"I think you need a counsellor."

"A counsellor?" Vince asked, thinking of summer camps and MPs.

"A therapist," Naboo rephrased. "Someone you can talk to. You've never lost anyone before, have you Vince?"

Vince shook his head mutely.

"Then maybe it's time to go to the doctor and get a referral."

"Urgh, I don't want a referral," Vince whined, finally meeting Naboo's eye. "I want Howard."

He knew he sounded like a spoilt child, but he couldn't help himself. He gazed at the tiny shaman, having to tilt his head upwards for once since he was still draped over the kitchen island.

Naboo sighed.

"I'm sorry, Vince. He's gone. You're going to have to learn to accept it. I'll make you an appointment, yeah?"

"No!" Vince moaned. "I don't need a therapist. I need... I don't know what I need, but it's not a therapist. It's... it's..." he sighed in defeat. "It's Howard."

Naboo just shook his head.

"I'll try and get one for Wednesday morning, alright?"

Vince just nodded, unable to argue. Naboo headed back down the stairs. Idly, Vince picked up his phone and started to mess with it, pushing the buttons without really thinking. Before he knew what he was doing, he was ringing Howard.

It went to voice mail, of course. Vince's heart sunk- somewhere, deep down, he had truly believed that Howard might pick up. But still, he somehow found his voice and began to speak uncertainly.

"Uh... Howard? It's me, Vince. Obviously. I've got your text, and I just wanted to reply. I don't really know what to say, if I'm honest, but I'll give it a bash, yeah?" He paused long enough to take a deep breath and then continued, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I wish you were here. So much. I can't believe it either." He gave a weak laugh. "I love you too. I can't even put into words how sorry I am for our argument. If it hadn't happened... If I'd have been a better mate..."

He couldn't finish the thought. He took the phone away from his ear and made to hang up, but then raised it again, fighting away the feeling of foolishness. He had to do this.

"It's not true, you know. What everyone says about you. Said. No, says, because nobody knows yet, I don't think, unless Naboo's told them. You're not a failure. You were a great man. Monsoon Moon. You just haven't found your place yet. I mean, you learn from doing, right? And nobody did- does- more than you. You've tried a bit of everything, and just because you weren't very good at it, doesn't mean you're going to fail at everything. You'll find something eventually, something you're really good at, and then you'll be sorted."

Vince shook his head. He wasn't making any sense, not that it mattered.

"I mean... Oh, I don't know what I mean. I miss you, Howard, simple as. I want you back. Do you think-" he fought against the lump in his throat, struggling to get the words out. "Do you think you could do that? Come back? Just for me? Because everything's genius when you're around. I mean it. But you're not here and everything's gone wrong. It's not right. I don't know... I just... I had to tell you that, yeah? And Naboo and Bollo aren't showing it so much, but I know they're grieving inside. They _have_ to miss you too. It's all so empty around here without you. I don't think you realise how much we need you. You hold us all together. You're the gel, you keep us all... normal."

He shook his head. He wasn't doing very well.

"I'm going to stop now, because I think I'm talking bollocks. My head's all jumbled up. But I need to tell you... You're my best mate too. You're the- the best person I've ever met. You were- are- just... You were great. Urgh, I'm sorry, I can't express myself properly, you know that, but I really mean all this. I can't function properly without you. I need you. And you really needed me, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Truly. I just thought you should know, yeah? Alright. Just... just stop being dead, yeah, and come back to us? I need you."

* * *

_**Urgh, that **_**was **_**sad. I'm sorry. But it does get better from here, like I said. Also, I have nothing against Blackberrys particularly, but they are shit, aren't they? Everyone I know who has one says that they're shit, anyway. And my dad's is awful. His speakers are busticated and everything so he can't even hear it ringing, which really bugs me because he never picks up and I don't live with him, so if I need anything...**_

_**ANYWAY,** **I have three last things to say. Four actually.** **The first is about that** **bit that Vince says at the end.** **That was inspired** **from Sherlock. If you** **watch it, you might get that.** **If not- Sherlock** **throws** **himself** **off** **a building** **to stop** **his** **best** **friend,** **John,** **and** **two** **other** **people,** **being** **killed,** **and** **then** **John** **goes** **to his** **graveside** **all** **tearful** **and** **he's** **like,** **"One last miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be dead. Can you do that? Just stop it. Stop this." It's a truly beautiful moment. If you haven't seen it, check it out, it's amazing, simple as- The Reichenbach Fall, the episode's called, and it's the last couple of minutes. Honestly amazing. And then -SPOILER ALERT- the camera pans round and Sherlock isn't dead, but he's decieved everyone into thinking he is, and he's stood behind a tree, watching John say all this. Simply beautiful.**_

_**Second thing. This entire fic is inspired by the song "Gunslinger" by Avenged Sevenfold. It's a truly amazing song, and it has a fantastic power over me. It makes me feel all happy and sad inside all at the same time. Remarkable. I strongly suggest you check it out. In fact, check out Avenged Sevenfold anyway. I think they're simply the greatest band ever- Gunslinger, Unbound, Afterlife, A Little Piece of Heaven (amusing video for that one, seriously), Dear God, Nightmare and So Far Away are my current favourites, but I just adore them in general. Some of their stuff might be a bit "hard rock" or "metal" for some people (although I'm not sure, they seem to span a few different genres/styles throughout their albums), but So Far Away and Dear God are more ballad-y, so you might want to start there. I really reccomend Gunslinger though, it's my all-time favourite song from them, so yeah. I'm actually going to write a songfic for it at some point, although for which fandom I have no idea :L. Also, if you listen to it, you might get some idea as to which direction this fic will take, so spoilers in song form ;). If you interpret it in the same way I do, I suppose. Idk. It's just beautiful, 'kay?**_

_**Third thing. If you are a Sherlock and Doctor Who fan, or a fan of one or the other (although I've never met a Doctor Who fan who isn't into Sherlock and vice-versa, although they're written/created by the same people, so that's unsurprising**__**), then please, please check out a fic me and my mate Emilehh are writing. It's called "Finding Amy", and it's a crossover of the to shows. Ah, I love Emilehh. She is the John to my Sherlock, the Doctor to my Amy (I agreed she could be the Doctor if I could be Sherlock, see. That's how the fic came about), the Vince to my Howard (however much I wish it could be the other way around :P), the Bollo to my Naboo, the Saboo to my Tony Harrison... you get the picture. Also, don't tell her I love her- I like to pretend I hate her 'cause she wont move in with me, even though I desperately need a flatmate. The ball-bag (as Naboo would say).**_

_**Well, I'm rambling terribly. So yes, the final thing. REVIEW! Please? Reviews earn metaphorical sad Vinces to cuddle, yeah? Alrighty :D.**_

_**I love you all! :D.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hello, fair readers :). Happy middle-of-the-night (I'm partially nocturnal, didn't ya know? :D). Well, I've moved the story along a little bit now, we're a week forward in time. It's more a filler chapter than anything, I've got to say. This is also inspired from Sherlock, from The Reichenbach Fall, the part at the beginning and near the end where John speaks to a therapist. This is mostly because I feel that John and Sherlock have a similar, very complicated relationship that goes beyond friendship but doesn't quite go into relationship territory because there are no "physical boundaries" crossed (as Howard would say... had he not been dead. Oh wait, he's not dead, is he? This is fanfiction. Right, I'm with it. Had he been real then? Oh, no, that makes me sad. They should sooo be real, am I right? ANYWAY...).**_

_**So yeah, the point still stands. Filler chapter. And then give it two more chapters after this and then the real plot kicks in. So just bear with me, yeah? I'm a few chapters ahead of you lot and I know for a fact it's worth sticking around for. I hope ;).**_

* * *

A week had passed since Vince had left that message, almost exactly, in fact. And now he sat across from a stern-looking lady with hair twisted into a tight bun, glasses, a neat suit and perfect, painted nails.

Dr. Walker.

She balanced a clipboard on her crossed legs, a pen poised ready to write. Vince looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak first.

"So, Mr. Noir-"

"Vince."

"Vince. You're here because your friend passed away last week, yes?"

"He didn't just 'pass away' though, did he? He killed himself."

It was easy to say the words now. Vince had stopped being upset a good few days back. Now he just felt hollow, empty. Like he couldn't be happy again.

"Okay," she conceded slowly, marking something down. Vince would have attempted to read it, but he just couldn't bring himself to be interested. Let her scribble shit about him. What did it matter? "And how did that make you feel?"

Was she stupid? Vince decided he liked this woman even less than that awful Lance Dior.

"How do you think?" he replied bitterly.

"Alright, Vince, if we're going to get anywhere, I'm going to need your cooperation."

"Fine," Vince agreed sullenly. He really didn't want to be there.

"You discovered the body, am I correct?"

"Is this an interview or something?"

Dr. Walker ignored him. "What are your thoughts on that?"

"Well, I like interviews," Vince replied, knowing full-well that wasn't what she was talking about, "but I think this one's a bit of a downer, to be honest."

"Okay," the doctor sighed, setting down her pen. "I don't think I'm going to get much out of you, am I?"

"You're only getting that now, are you?"

"Would you prefer to talk to one of my colleagues? I believe Dr. Hargreaves isn't busy at this present moment. How about that?"

Vince shrugged, slouching back in his chair. "Whatever."

Dr. Walker nodded and left the room. Moments later, a young dark-skinned woman entered. Vince looked up at her.

"Good morning. Dr. Walker tells me you're having some trouble. Would you care to talk me through it?"

Vince eyed her a moment. She was nicer company than Dr. Walker already, with loose brown hair and a pleasant smile. As she sat, he noted her bright silver, wedged-heel ankle boots.

"I like your shoes," he offered. "You got them from Top Shop."

"I did. An early birthday present from my boyfriend. I see you've dressed up for the occasion."

Vince looked down at himself. Plain black jeans and a purple shirt with diamontes decorating the collar and cuffs. A pair of black cowboy boots covered his feet, mostly hidden beneath the ends of his trousers. A black Stetson sat perched on his un-straightened hair.

"Not really," he shrugged. "Dressed down, if anything."

She laughed, and Vince got the impression she really thought he was joking. He didn't bother to correct her.

"So, I should introduce myself. I'm Dr. Hargreaves, but you can call me Linda."

"I'm Vince."

"Well, Vince, maybe you could tell me what the problem is?"

Vince nodded slightly, sitting up. He got the impression that Linda really wanted to help him, unlike that woman beforehand, who was clearly only there because she was getting paid for it. There was something about her that he found accessible, and he really didn't mind opening up to her.

"Last week, my best friend- Howard- killed himself."

"I see. And-"

"If you ask me how that made me feel, I'm going to hurt you."

Linda laughed again. Vince was surprised. He had expected her to jot it down, even though he had meant it to be taken lightly.

"Alright. Then maybe, to save me asking, you could take me through it. What happened that day?"

"We had a fight the night before, and I stormed out. I came back the next day and he was dead."

The simplicity of the wording surprised even Vince. He sounded cold, distant. So unlike himself.

"Sorry, that sounded horrible," he amended quickly.

"Understandable. I would suggest you're distancing yourself from the pain, do you not think?"

Vince nodded. "Probably. But it's better than crying every five minutes because something reminds me of him."

"Is it?"

When Vince didn't reply, she continued with a new question.

"I have to ask at this point. Were you and this Howard... romantically involved?"

"No, nothing like that," Vince replied, shaking his head. "We kissed once, but that was so the Head Shaman didn't chop my head off."

"I see..." Linda said slowly. "Head Shaman?"

"Oh come on, you've got to have heard of the shamans. My mate Naboo's one."

"Have you got a history of delusions, Vince?" she asked carefully.

"Just forget I said anything, yeah?"

"Okay." But she jotted something down anyway.

Vince shook his head, pretending nothing had happened, but silently kicking himself for even mentioning the kiss. "Look, the point is, I don't know. We weren't together, but there might have been... feelings. I don't know. We didn't really think about it. We had such a great dynamic as mates, and we were enough like a married couple anyway. We didn't need to say stuff like that out loud. We were happy as we were."

And then it came flooding back, all the emotions he had bottled up, and he had too look away so Linda couldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"Right." She wrote something else down. "Do you miss Howard, Vince?"

"Of course I do." His voice broke as he said it.

"And there are things you didn't get to say to him?"

"Yeah. Loads. He... he sent me a message right after he took the pills, saying goodbye. It was his note, I suppose. And I tried to reply. I left him a voice mail." He paused. "I don't think he got it," he said with a weak smile, but rather than a joke, it just sounded sad.

"And this was... after?"

"Yeah. I didn't have my phone with me at the time."

"And do you think you could have stopped him- saved him- if you'd have got the message in time?"

Vince hesitated. He hadn't really thought about it. He was too hung up on thinking about if he hadn't left the flat at all, never mind forgotten his phone.

"Yeah," he said, in a small voice. "Yeah, I could've. I could've phoned Naboo and told him- he lives with us, you see."

"Naboo the... shaman?"

"I told you to forget about that."

"Alright," Linda nodded. "Do you blame yourself, Vince?"

Vince shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's like... if I'd have been there, or if I hadn't been horrible to him that night, or if I'd have just believed him when he told me he was considering offing himself, then he would still be here now. But he was so stubborn. I think he'd have found a way anyway, eventually. And sometimes I'm just really angry with him for being so weak. For leaving us. For leaving _me."_

"Are there times when you think he might come back?"

"What?" Vince was surprised by the unusual question. But then he realised that there were, and so he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose there are. I just can't believe he's gone forever. And then there are times when I forget. Like... like last night, I woke up and I wanted to ask him a question, so I looked over at his bed, and I wondered where he'd gone. And then I remembered, and I just... I had to leave the room. I couldn't bear it."

"You shared a bedroom?"

Vince nodded. She wrote something else down.

"Did you share a bed?"

"God, no," and for the first time that week, he laughed genuinely. But it was hollow- nothing but a ghost of his old laugh.

She crossed something out and wrote something new.

"You said you woke up in the middle of the night. Do you have problems sleeping?"

"Yeah, I have been. I mean, I used to wake up in the night and then ask Howard some stupid question, and then go back to sleep. He used to shout at me for waking him up all the time. I mean, for the first few days I was fine, and sleep was like my escape. In fact, it was better than that, because he's always there, in my dreams, and we have adventures like we used to. Which made waking up so much harder. But for the last four of five nights, I've had trouble dropping off, and then I'll wake up so much more often and sometimes, I can't fall back to sleep."

"Right."

Linda wrote down one final thing and then looked up at Vince.

"I think that's enough for the first session. Would you like to see me again next time, or would you like to go back to Dr. Walker?"

Vince shifted in his chair.

"You."

"Great. That can be arranged. If you want, I can come to your flat and see you there, if it would make you feel more comfortable?"

"Yeah, alright. I can introduce you to Naboo, and then you might believe me."

"Okay," Linda agreed dubiously. "Right, if you just wait there, I can get you a prescription for some sleeping medication?"

"Alright."

She left the room, returning a few moments later with a piece of paper. "Here, take two of these an hour before you go to bed. You shouldn't have any problems sleeping through the night. And you look like you could do with the rest."

She said this with a smile. Vince smiled back, automatically, but it just didn't feel right, so he let it drop.

"Cheers."

He took the prescription and stood.

"Your next appointment should be through in the post, alright? If you can't do the time it says, just ring and we'll reschedule."

"Alright. See you then."

"Goodbye."

Vince left the room, rushing past reception and into fresh air. He took a deep breath, then pulled out his phone and called for a taxi.

He couldn't help but think of what a complete waste of time it all was. He felt no better. In fact, if anything, he felt worse. The barriers he had so carefully constructed over the past few days had been torn down and he felt like he was back to square one. Totally useless.

* * *

_**Before I go, I have a super-long, long, long author's note for you. I'm sorry. But this one's fairly important, so yeah.**_

_**Uh, first of all, thank you to my reviewers, yet again. I love you, I really do :).**_

_**Concupiscence66- Oh my God, "Cup of Science". I love it. In fact, it sounds like a rather interesting idea for a 'Boosh fic. Hmm. Can I be cheeky and ask if I can attempt to use it somewhere, either as a passing mention or a plot device? I'll give you a name-check, of course, and let you know what I do with it... xD. Because that actually sounds... well, genius! :D. And well, I always say I should be a comedian ;). Comedienne, whatever. Or not, really, since I'm probably not all that funny. I just ramble a lot :D. I'm with you there though- as long as everything turns out all right- and it will, I promise- I think all this Vince-angst is excusable. And wow, I'm well impressed I've got a Sherlock fan reading my humble fic. Sherlock is just... Urgh, there aren't words. It's fantastic. Like the 'Boosh, but on the amazing side of a totally different spectrum. They couldn't be more different, I don't think. Like... the 'Boosh is sort of like two men mucking around with a camera crew, basically, and Sherlock's like a really engaging film. But they're just equally fantastic, in my opinion. Anyway, sorry for the ramble, it's just that whenever someone mentions Sherlock, I just start gushing about it and getting all excited. I'll leave you to get on with you life now, shall I? xD.**_

_**AlKiMi- Thank you for being so kind with your lovely, lovely words :D. Particularly after I made you so terribly upset :(. I apologise, yet again, for the sadness. I hope the next chapter makes up for it though, since it's a lot more light-hearted. I know I've already mentioned, but... TONY HARRISON AND SABOO! Sorry, I'm well excited for my next update. I love them so much, and haven't done them nearly enough justice, but still... Yeah, anyway, what fandom are you writing for? It had better be 'Boosh ;). Nah, either way, send me a link or something and I'll check it out, yeah? :). I could probably find it for myself pretty easily, but I'm just lazy like that ;).**_

_**Right, I'm afraid I'm not done with this note. I have a question to ask.**_

_**Basically, I have a couple of 'Boosh fics in the works, right? A couple are simply ideas at the moment, and a couple have a chapter or two already written. So what would you like to see?**_

_**I have two OC ones. The first- How Vince Noir Grew Up. Or some variant of that title. Basically, a simple six-or-seven chapter story about Vince "growing up" and ending up with a "proper" life, like a wife and kids basically, and all the complications along the way. I have some reservations about this one. Mostly because I, like most people, ship Howince. And I firmly believe that they will grow old together and even if they don't confess their obvious unspoken love, their whole friendship dynamic will continue as it is. Also, it sounds crap in summary, but it's really not that crap. Also, I have most of this written, so I might post anyway. Not sure.**_

_**Second OC one- basically, they take in a homeless girl, resulting in a kind of love triangle between Howard, Kali- my OC- and Vince. Throw in a couple of complications from Naboo and a jealous ex, and that's basically the whole fic. Also probably going to end up short. So would you like that? A nice, lovely, love-triangle? A nice, lovely, minimum-angst-as-I-can-manage love-triangle, to counteract the horrible bitterness of this story? But still with a bit of angst otherwise there wouldn't be much point, would there? :D.**_

_**Okay, the rest are crossovers.**_

_**'Boosh and Sherlock. Oh my God, my heart might explode with the fantasticness! Please, someone say they want one of these. 'Cause I will work my little fangirl socks off to provide, I really will.**_

_**'Boosh and Doctor Who? I'd just love that combination too! So many bloody possibilities!**_

_**'Boosh/Harry Potter? I have the first chapter and a half, which I'm very fond of because it's mostly Howard/Vince banter and I think it works really well. I also have a vague plot for it too, and I will most likely post eventually anyway, because I'm just in love with my general concept for it. Not that I'm big-headed or anything :P.**_

_**If there's any ideas for a fic/crossover you have for the 'Boosh, I'd love to hear them and happily write them, so long as it's a fandom I know. Just throw 'em out there and see what I say, you never know :). I mean, I'll definitely do any requests, and that's a promise, because I love writing from prompts, but I might not be able to do a crossover because I might not know the other fandom, basically. But ask away anyway, I beg you :D.**_

_**And very, very final thing. I WILL be posting 'Boosh Oneshots, a collection of... Yep, you guessed it- oneshots I'm working on. Most of them will be long and probably able to stand alone as stories, but I think it's just tidier to put them all in one place. You know... sort of like the Designated Refuse Area for my rubbish. Otherwise Howard might come along and shout at me. Which wouldn't altogether be a bad thing. In fact, that might be a good way to attract his attention. Hmm... Anyway, the point is, there will be lots of angst, and general friendship, and possible adventures, and Howince fluff, and all sorts in there. I'll let you know in my (hopefully much shorter) author's note of the future when I do post it, yeah? And I'd be really, really grateful if you could check it out.**_

_**Right, that's me done then. Please, please, drop a review to let me know what you think so far (I'll bet you've forgotten that there was even a chapter by this point. I bloody have :L). And next time, I swear I won't go on so much, alright? Thank you very much!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**HELLO! Alrighty, well, whilst I've currently got internet and I'm managing to write as quickly as I'm posting, for once in my life I'm going to try and post a chapter every day or two and stick to it ;).**_

_**Well, what can I say? Oh yeah... SABOO AND TONY HARRISON! Who are a bit OOC, admittedly. I'm sorry. I just got overwhelmed with the amazingness of it all. Oh, and now my computer's shouting at me for writing 'amazingness', which isn't a word. Rude.**_

_**On with the fic! :).**_

* * *

The next week was even more of a strain than the first one, if that was possible. Naboo had decided it was time to arrange a funeral, so there were so many preparations to be done. Vince was directed to call the friends and family and pick something out for Howard to be buried in. It was hardly too taxing, but telling all two of Howard's relatives that he could manage to get in touch with- his father and his uncle- and the friends- Leroy and Lester- was awful enough. Rooting through Howard's limited wardrobe and picking out his favourite shirt and cords was difficult. By the time Vince was finished, he felt like there was a huge chasm in his chest and he could barely breathe.

It was curious- almost like a panic attack of sorts that refused to go away. He was able to look at it objectively, strangely disconnected from himself. It was beginning to seem like his thoughts and feelings were two separate entities entirely, only connected by a thin, delicate string. In short, it felt like he was losing his mind.

And then, all of a sudden, it was the day he had been dreading. He didn't want to go to the funeral. He simply didn't want to have to say goodbye. It would make everything all the more real, if that was even possible. But he knew he had to go. It was the least he could do, and Howard would do the same for him. In a way, he owed it to his friend.

So he climbed from his bed, found the same black jeans he had worn to his appointment, sought out the black shirt he had worn when they went looking for the fountain of youth, and shrugged on a black jacket. The simplest outfit he had ever worn. He topped it off with the same cowboy boots and the hat he had been wearing the other day. And then he took the hat off again, feeling that it wasn't right for such an occasion.

He carefully straightened his hair and applied the tiniest bit of eyeliner to finish the look. When he deemed himself presentable, he went downstairs to the shop, where everyone was going to gather and leave from.

Howard's father was there already. When he saw Vince, he broke away from Naboo- who he was talking to- and moved toward him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Vince, how are you?"

"Alright, I suppose. You?"

"Yeah, we're all fine. Apart from the obvious, you know?"

"Yeah."

"It's good to see you again. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, the usual."

Vince eyed the man carefully. He was quite tall and broad, with a moustache and hair to match Howard's. He was similarly too. He was a geography teacher, after all. His black jacket had brown elbow patches that felt like a knife as Vince noticed them and remembered his friend's awful creations. It seemed like so long ago now, but that had only been a couple of months back.

Then Lester arrived, and Howard's father moved off to greet him. He didn't seem that upset- none of them did, really. Vaguely, he wondered where the rest of the family were, but maybe they just couldn't make it down. Or maybe they weren't interested.

Soon, everyone was there. When Bob Fossil and the entirety of the Shaman Council turned up, Vince shot Naboo an agitated glare.

"What? No one else was going to come, were they?" Naboo responded defensively.

"They've never even met Howard!" Vince objected.

"Tony and Saboo have," he returned.

"As have I," declared Dennis grandly, overhearing.

Vince just made an indignant noise in the back of his throat and melted back into the corner, where he had been waiting, observing.

Eventually, the funeral cars turned up. Vince, Naboo, Bollo and Howard's dad squashed into the car with the coffin, while everyone else followed them on the two magic carpets- one was Naboo's, driven by Saboo and Tony Harrison and provided for Lester and Bob Fossil, and the rest of the Shaman Council rode on the other one.

The service was short and the burial was even shorter. Before Vince knew it, it was time for the wake, which was poor at best. They went to a nearby bar and crowded into three booths.

Vince got stuck sat in between Tony Harrison and Bob Fossil, which he considered to be a nightmare. Saboo sat opposite, commenting drily on _everything_ Tony said, even if it was absolutely nothing to do with him.

"I haven't got a straw! This is an outrage!" Tony moaned as Dennis came over and handed out the drinks.

"Shut it, ball-head," Saboo said lamely, distracted by Kirk, who was whizzing around the room, pretending to be a cannonball and clearly off his face on something.

This was followed by a good five minutes of Tony shuffling around the table, desperately trying to reach up to drink from the top of the glass. Every time he got near to the glass, he accidentally shoved it a bit further away from himself with the tentacles that he seemed to have little control over.

Eventually, he drifted into Saboo's section of the table. The dark-skinned shaman simply lifted the glass from the table and set it as far away as possible from Tony.

"Do you mind?" Tony challenged, glaring up at him. "I almost had it then."

"No you didn't, you absolute tit. Why don't you just ask for help?"

"Well you're not going to give me any, are you? I've got to do everything by myself. It'd be nice if you could offer some kind of support once in a while."

"I would, Tony, but offering help to you is like taking on a job as a full-time carer."

"It's not my fault I haven't got any limbs, is it?"

Vince suddenly slid from the booth.

"I'll just get you a bloody straw, yeah?" he snapped, stalking toward the bar.

"Hey! What's your beef?" Tony cried after him. Vince resisted the urge to turn around and give him the finger, snatching a straw from the holder, moving back to the table and slipping it into the drink before pushing it back to Tony.

"Happy now?" he asked sullenly, slumping back into his seat. He accidentally bumped his shoulder into Bob Fossil's back, and he broke off mid-conversation with Dennis to turn and snap at Vince.

"Watch it, bottle-nose!"

"Alright, calm yourself Fossil," Vince replied, unfazed.

"Bottle-nose?" Tony cried, still sat in front of Saboo. "You need a new insult book, my friend."

"Be quiet, you Pritt Stick," Saboo responded, shoving him back across the table, toward Vince. He shuffled sideways, back to his original place, and then looked up at his drink.

"Urgh, a pink straw? I hate pink! This is an outrage!"

"Do you own a mirror, Tony?" Saboo shot back.

Vince rubbed his temples. He had a headache.

Beside him, Tony was still going on.

"I don't as it happens, no," he was saying. "Mrs. Harrison smashed it last night. I told her, I said, 'don't balance it on the side of the bath, or it'll fall off and break', but did she listen? Seven years bad luck! I mean, does she even have ears?"

Opposite, Saboo rested his head in his hands. "Well thank you for that dynamite story. What is this? 'Chronicles of The Ball Men'?"

On Vince's other side, Bob Fossil let out a shrill, obnoxious laugh.

"Good one, pilgrim penis!" he cried, rubbing his nipple.

"I'll take you on, you know," Tony argued, ignoring Bob Fossil. "Come on, I can take you!"

"We've been through this before, Tony..."

"Oh come on, you want a piece of this, don't you?"

In one simple motion, Saboo reached over and dumped Tony's drink- pink straw and all- over him.

"Put a sock in it, you plum-cicle."

Some of the drink splashed onto Vince, and then he had finally reached breaking point.

"For God's sake!" he cried, springing up and dabbing at the wet patch on his jacket with a napkin that was lay on the table. "You're all fucking insane!"

"Vince, calm down," came Naboo's monotone voice from the booth behind. Vince turned to him.

"No! I won't fucking calm down! He's whizzing about like a fly in everyone's peripheral," he indicated Kirk, who was now hopping about like a kangaroo, "I'm being sandwiched in by Tweedle-Dum, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-fucking-Dumber," he indicated Tony, Saboo and Bob Fossil in order, "and in case nobody's noticed, we're supposed to be here to mourn Howard. I can't see much mourning going on, can you?"

He was really angry now. Howard deserved so much better.

"I tell you what, Naboo, don't you dare organise _my_ funeral, because if it's going to be anything like this, I'd rather be buried in the back yard, like a hamster. And if I stay here much longer, it'll be soon, because I'm this close"- he held up his finger and his thumb a centimetre apart- "to slitting my wrists with your effing straw." He directed these last words to Tony. "I'm getting out of here, because you're all a bunch of wankers."

And with that, he slipped past Tony and stalked away, slamming the pub door behind him.

* * *

_**Okay, so a heads up. I said the saddest chapter has passed. It hasn't. I'm sorry. See, I had intended to move things along within the next few chapters, but it didn't feel right, so I went back and added in some new chapters, and now... well, basically, there's some rough parts ahead. The next chapter's alright, but the couple after are just... a bit not good, really (another Sherlock reference. I'm sorry, I just love it :P). Well, I'll explain in the author's note when I come to it anyways. Point is, it's all moving a bit slower now than it was before, and you're gonna have to wait a bit longer for the happier bits, so I'm really sorry about that. But please stick with it, because it's going to be angsty, but there WILL be light at the end of the tunnel. Alrighty?**_

_**Also, I feel obliged to let you know that I've just dived across the sofa to get my bag from down the side of it, and fallen straight over the arm and onto the floor. Ouch. Thought you should know what a clumsy prick I am ;).**_

_**As always, a huge, enormous, gigantic THANK YOU to all of you reviewing, favouriting and alerting. I actually can't express in words how much I love you all. You're just... amazing, yeah? Amazing like a poncho-sombrero combo. I can't believe how much support you get from the 'Boosh community. It's just brilliant, truly.**_

_**Right, yes, my replies. Sorry, got distracted :P.**_

_**BatsNotDogs- Indeed- look at me, knocking out chapters like a pro, eh? I guess I've just been super-inspired lately xD. I am terribly, terribly sorry for reducing you to tears, honest. But I must thank you once again for your kind, kind words, even after I made you cry! And you know, I reckon your sister must be a little bit wise, to ramble about Sherlock ;). You should get yourself in front of that TV screen and watching it, my friend, because it is mind-blowing! You know... once you actually figure out what's going on, because it's a bit... confusing :P. Also, I do really want to write a crossover- I think it'd be so much fun :L. What would you like to see it crossed with d'you reckon? :). **_

_**AlKiMi- Thank you very much! I'll let you know when I post stuff, yeah? I'm not sure if you have me on Author Alert, 'cause FF won't let me onto that page for some reason :(. Also, I've got to tell you- have some faith in your work! :D. Of course I was going to check it out- you've been a faithful reviewer to me- and it was really good, so relax! And I wouldn't hate it anyway, particularly since it's a first fic, 'cause I'm just too nice to hate anything ;). Aside from spiders. Urgh. So as long as you're not a spider, chill ;).**_

_**Roy The Starfish- Are you actually a starfish? 'Cause that'd be pretty cool. If not, I'm sure you're cool anyways, no worries :). Uh, yeah, back to the point. I apologise to you too, for making you cry. But it's all necessary to get a good narrative going I'm afraid. Not that I actually know what I'm on about when I say that. I'm just making shit up as I go along, to be fair xD. Thank you for being so nice to me though, even if I am just chatting shit right now :L. And yes! Sherlock is just marvellous, isn't it? Ah, Benedict Cumberbatch and his magnificent cheekbones :D. I think you're excused for not watching Doctor Who though, because you're a Sherlock fan, so yeah :D. Thank you for your lovely review- how would YOU feel about a 'Boosh/Sherlock crossover? :). And yeah, I'll check out your story as soon as my internet connection stops playing up, yeah? I'm not even sure if I'll be able to upload this 'cause it's so dodgy, but I guess I've been successful if you're reading this, so... :).**_

_**Right, final four things. First: sorry for the long note again. It's necessary, I'm afraid, in order to reply to my beautiful reviewers, because the PM system doesn't work half the time on my rubbish internet, and obviously, I need to thank you properly because I am most grateful to you all :D.**_

_**Second, have any of you seen Noel Fielding's Luxury Comedy? I absolutely adore it. "Here comes Roy Circles! He's got chocolate ankles!"**_

_**A-ma-zing!**_

_**Thirdly, does anyone else find those see-through raincoat things Vince and Howard have when they're singing 'Future Sailors' completely awesome? I really freaking want one :L. So cool xD.**_

_**Aaaaand finally- "I've gotta go, actually, 'cause you're a freak." xD. Aw, Vince is well funny :D.**_

_**Right, I actually really do have to go. Goodbye, fair readers, and thank you for your patience with my insane ramblings. I've just got, like, the shortest attention span ever. I swear to God. I was playing cricket with my step-siblings, and I just kept on wandering off to look at funny-shaped trees and stuff. They were getting really pissed with me xD. Although, in my defence, I **_**told****_ them I didn't like cricket. Haha- "...And that's why I don't like cricket."_**

_**Yeah, little anecdote there. Fun :L. Right, anyway, I'll leave to to your lives. Please review, because I love you so very much for reading my humble story and I think you should send me a nice present to brighten my day. Because it really does, honestly :D. I get high off reviews, see :D.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**'Ello, 'ello, 'ello. How is everyone? Good, I'm glad :). Me? Oh, I'm feeling fabulous, thank you for asking :).**_

_**Uh, there's drunk Vince in this. And quite a bit of kicking. I apologise. I don't write drunk very well, I'm afraid. I mean, it's not like I'm inexperienced- me and my step-brother rob quite a lot of alcohol from our parents' cupboard. But I find it very difficult to get the feeling into words. I mean, for me it's like I'm trapped inside my own head, like... I can look at everything objectively, and I know exactly what I'm doing and saying, but I can see that my body isn't obeying me totally, and it's really frustrating sometimes xD. And I don't say/do things without meaning to- it's more the idea of knowing I can use being pissed as an excuse later that makes me do it. You know?**_

_**So what I've done is just written Vince as looking at everything as though it's normal, like he's being objective or whatever and functioning properly. But really, he's all heavy and he can't stand right, and everything's spinning and he's off his face. Alright? :).**_

_**I apologise for the terribly bad portrayal of drunkenness xD.**_

* * *

Vince didn't go straight back to the flat that night. Instead, he found a club and got as hammered as possible. His phone didn't stop going off for almost the whole time he was there, and he knew it was Naboo, ringing to see where he was.

But he was still angry. In fact, the more he drunk, the angrier he got. And then, near to midnight, he was approached by a girl. They got talking, but Vince knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. He just couldn't be bothered and she wasn't really his type anyway. Still, she batted her eyelids at him and flirted for all she was worth. Not once did he smile.

He was friendly enough, but he just couldn't see the point. He wasn't happy, in fact, by this point, he was downright miserable. And there was no use pretending otherwise. What good would it do, he reasoned? It was hardly going to make him feel better, and it was definitely not going to do anything for the girl, other than make her think he might be interested.

Eventually, she drifted off, sensing she wasn't getting anything back out of him. It was then that Vince decided it was time to leave. He didn't realise quite how drunk he was until he got outside and the fresh air hit him, and everything began to spin slightly. Before he could walk more than two steps, the was a hand on his shoulder, dragging him around.

"Oi!" the stranger growled. Vince found himself faced with a tall, stocky skinhead. "My girlfriend not good enough for you or something?"

"Nah, mate," Vince replied, too far gone to detect his threatening tone or register that he really should have been afraid. Or running. Running was good. "I'm just not looking for anything right now."

"You will be, if you know what's good for you."

The man gave him a shove, and he stumbled back a bit. His mind finally reached the conclusion that he might be in trouble and so he fell back on the excuse that had saved him from so many jealous boyfriends in the past.

He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not even interested in women, mate."

"A poof, eh? Lucky you told me that."

"Yeah?" All of a sudden, Vince lost confidence in his excuse. This was a man just looking for a fight, it seemed.

"Yeah, 'cause I fucking hate gays. I'm gonna fuck you up."

Another push and Vince was on the ground. He felt a shoe slam into his ribs once, twice, three times, and then he lost count as the blows reigned down and he did the only thing he could. He curled into a ball and protected his face.

It seemed to go on forever. The alcohol numbed the pain somewhat, but Vince could still feel it, creeping through his ribs, up his spine, making every inch of his body ache. Everything was blurring and he was lost in a haze of drunkenness and hurt. But he didn't fight back, or try and get away, because something deep inside of him was wishing that perhaps this man would finish him, and he would finally get to see Howard again, after the longest two-and-a-half weeks of his life.

But then the man walked away, spitting onto the pavement near his head. Vince unfurled himself and rolled onto his back, panting heavily, finding himself short of breath. It burned to breathe, it hurt to move, and he wasn't sure if he could stand, so for a long while he simply lay there, staring at the stars.

When he felt strong enough, he rolled over and got up on his hands and knees, arms trembling. His body felt heavy and impossible to move, but he forced himself upright, staggering into a nearby lamppost and using it to steady himself.

"You alright, mate?" a passing man asked, staring in concern. Vince couldn't bring himself to tell him what had happened.

"Yeah, had a few too many I think," he said with what he hoped was a convincing laugh.

"Do you need a hand?"

"Nah. I'm fine, thanks."

The man nodded and carried on. Vince struggled to compose himself and turned in the direction of his home. At that moment though, his phone rang, so he fell back against the lamppost and pulled it out. Naboo, as expected. He deliberated a second before answering.

"Hello?"

"Vince, where the hell are you?" the shaman was agitated, unsurprisingly.

"Alright, calm down. I ran into some trouble. I'm coming home now."

Despite his best efforts, his words were slurring.

"Are you pissed?"

"A bit. I'll explain later, yeah? I'm only around the corner."

"Alright, hurry up."

Vince hung up and set off with some difficultly. It took him almost ten minutes to complete a two minute walk, but eventually he stumbled into the shop and collapsed into his usual seat by the window.

"Naboo!" he yelled, signifying his arrival. Pain shot up his ribs to accompany his shout, but he didn't really acknowledge it.

A moment later, Naboo and Bollo appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Shit, Vince. Have you been beaten up?"

Vince had no idea how Naboo knew, but then again, he couldn't see what state he was in.

"Yeah. A man starting hitting me 'cause I told him I was gay."

Naboo made a tutting noise, but didn't really press the matter. Stranger things had happened, after all.

The shaman crossed to him and lifted his chin, examining his neck. There was an ache, so Vince presumed he had bruised. Then Naboo started pulling back his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whoa," Vince said jokingly, "calm yourself. I'm not actually gay you know. Well, half..." he broke off with a grin, the first time he had genuinely smiled in a while. His anger and misery had dissipated now, replaced by a strange sense of bliss. He was loving being so drunk. It was making him feel... good. Normal. More like himself, somehow.

"Shut up and let me see."

Naboo undid all the buttons and pulled the shirt aside to look at Vince's torso. Bruises decorated his ribs, which were awfully visible. Then he started feeling and prodding.

"Alright, ow! Easy!"

"You'll be alright. Just bruises. You might have a cracked rib or two, but I'm not sure. Hard to tell while you're in this state."

"I'll let you look again in the morning, yeah?" Vince proposed. His head felt heavy and he was suddenly sleepy, now he was in his comfy seat.

"Have you been eating properly, Vince?" Naboo asked carefully.

Vince replied without thinking.

"Nah, Howard used to make my dinner. I've been living off apples." He flashed another smile, completely missing the look that passed between Naboo and Bollo. "Apples. It's a funny word, isn't it?"

Naboo slapped his shoulder. Vince scowled suddenly.

"Ow! Alright, I wouldn't have said anything if I knew I'd have to suffer this kind of abuse!"

"You've got to eat, you ball-bag! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I haven't been that hungry!"

That wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was that Vince didn't think it was fair that he could eat anything he wanted and yet Howard would never be able to taste anything again. That thought alone was enough to make him lose his appetite, so he grabbed an apple to keep himself going every now and again and pretty much forgot about any other kind of eating.

"Right, that's it. From now on, Bollo's in charge of your meals. And if you're not eating at least two a day, you're in serious trouble."

"Ooh," Vince laughed. "Scary."

"I suppose you won't be wanting a potion to numb the pain then?"

"Actually, yeah," Vince said, the smile sliding off his face immediately. "Sorry Naboo."

"Bollo?" He turned to the gorilla. "Potion three, yeah?"

Bollo grunted and vanished back upstairs. When he returned, he had something reddish in a glass vial. It looked a lot like blood, but when Vince took it from his hairy grip, he caught a whiff of cherries.

"Go on then, what's this? Cherryade?"

"Just drink it, you dick."

Vince shrugged and complied, throwing back his head and downing the entire potion in one. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. As the liquid hit his stomach, it seemed to disagree with the alcohol and all of a sudden he felt like he was going to throw up.

"I'm gonna chuck," he announced thickly, through a mouthful of saliva. The glass vial slid from his grip and smashed on the floor as he hauled himself- with difficultly- out of the chair and tottered toward the stairs. It took him three steps before he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach onto the shop floor and partially, somehow, onto Bollo.

Bollo jumped back quickly, with an indignant kind of grunt. He recovered quickly though, moving back to Vince's side.

"Vince's bed time," he said simply, half-carrying Vince up the stairs. All the while, Vince was trying to turn to see Naboo's face. Surely he had upset the shaman?

"Sorry, Naboo!" he settled for calling as they reached the flat. Then he batted Bollo away. "Alright, I can take it from here. Cheers, Bollo. And sorry for... you know." He attempted to gesture in the general direction of Bollo's vomit-splattered leg, although he ended up pointing at somewhere closer to his belly. "Night."

Before the ape could reply, he was staggering down the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall. He fell into the bedroom, quite literally, losing his balance as he pushed open the door and landing in the middle of the room. Once again, pain needled up his sides but he dismissed it easily, already struggling to stand up and make the final few steps to his bed. But just as he was doing so, another wave of nausea hit him and all of a sudden, he was throwing up again.

Just like that, any sense of happiness dissipated. Vince stared down at the rug he had ruined. Howard had bought that rug. Vince had always hated it- loathed it, in fact- but Howard had fallen in love with it. Why, he had no idea, but somewhere in that mad, amazing mind, hideous patterns of various shades of brown was pretty. In the same way he thought Hawaiian shorts were trendy and jazz was an art form.

Yet again, tears pricked at the corners of Vince's eyes. He felt ashamed of himself. He had never appreciated anything that Howard said or did, never really thought about what his life would be without him. He just lived in the moment. He didn't get hung up on the little intricacies that made their friendship so perfect. He didn't really worry when he received a compliment and returned with an insult. He wasn't bothered by the fact that he let Howard down again and again whilst the older man was always there for him. But now, looking back, the answer as to why all this was happening was so painfully clear that Vince knew he _had_ to have been stupid not to have seen it.

He had driven Howard to suicide.

It was easy for Howard to say that he was a great mate- that was what Howard did. He made Vince feel good about himself in small and subtle ways. Yeah, he did nit-pick at the little things, but he was always trying to make Vince better. And even though their individual ideas of better had been two completely different things, he still meant well.

And what did Vince do? He tore at Howard's self-esteem, put him down, argued with him constantly. He mocked anything Howard was proud of. He had done nothing to help Howard in his entire life, he was certain.

That feeling of suffocation was back. He couldn't breathe. He didn't want to be drunk any more. He wanted it to go away. When he was pissed, he could see the truth. He could see everything so much more clearly. And he couldn't ignore it, lock it away for later, because he just didn't have that kind of control over himself whilst intoxicated.

Vince's body trembled with inexpressible emotion as he curled in on himself. It was there- lying on the rug, furled up into a tight ball- that he passed out, still crying softly.

* * *

_**Well, I hope I captured enough of the kind of emotional roller-coaster that being drunk ends up being. For me anyway. I don't know about anyone else. It's just like, you feel all happy and peaceful one second, then suddenly something upsets you, then you go happy again and it carries on like that :L. And then you get all tired and sleepy, and then you fight it off, and then you have another drink or something to eat that gets the nausea going, and then you throw up everywhere, and then you either don't remember anything after that point or just pass out.**_

_**And it's pretty amazing, to be honest xD. Although I don't know if that's what it's like for everyone else :L.**_

_**I remember once I had shit-loads of vodka and coke (I'm talking like, LOADS, like, a whole bunch of various sized bottles) and I brought it home to my flat. At the time I had no furniture, so I just kind of sat on the floor and got pissed up. Like, really pissed up :L. And then I can't remember anything that happened after about ten o'clock. I was listening to Horrible Histories songs, 'cause I think they're well good (:D), and then there's just... nothing. And I had to get up the next morning to take my little sister to school and I woke up on my own, no alarm or anything, at exactly the right time and I was just like, covered in sick. Which was awkward. And I was still pretty tipsy, so I was just wobbling around, trying to get cleaned up. Absolute nightmare. Vodka still makes me feel ill if I have more than one glass/shot/whatever.**_

_**So yeah, I thought I should share with you another chapter from my life :L. Sorry, I just felt I had to tell you that xD.**_

_**Oh, and I know Vince is like, barely affected by being beaten up, but it's just because he's drunk. And then in the next chapter, he doesn't remember it that well, and it's kind of over-shadowed by other stuff going on in his head anyway. So there isn't really a lot of reaction to it, to be fair, however I am going to explore the possibilities further in the oneshots when I get round to posting them, and Howard will be around in that one, so yeah. A bit of Hurt/Comfort and some fluff. :D.**_

_**Uh... important bit. THANK YOU to my reviewers. I love you, seriously. Every time I log on and check on my reviews, I just get this massive grin when I see a new review. And then I read it and I just... Oh my word, I lose it. I just go all off my tits on happiness (and I swear to God, I used to say that before I even saw the 'Boosh, so for once, that wasn't a quote ;)). I mean that- you guys just seriously make me grin. It's mental :D.**_

_**BatsNotDogs- How's this for speedy? ;). Alright, it's not **_**that****_ speedy, but still... :D. Uh... I think I'm in love with you. Sorry about that. But seriously? "Now I've got to walk around town all week in a chlamydia outfit!". I freaking love that episode :D. I'm sorry for dragging you away from your studies though ;). Media Studies was the only subject I did in college, for the whole two hours I went before I dropped out :/. Urgh. Learning :L. But my mate's making me go to sixth form in September so enjoy me while you can, 'cause I'll probably kill myself before then ;). On a more serious note, thank you yet again for your lovely, lovely words :D. I did try and make it as episode-like as I could, but it's really difficult with the 'Boosh to find balance between angst and keeping it kind of in context with the show. I think that's what I mean, anyway. Also, I love The Big Bang Theory :D. I have a friend who's just like Sheldon, seriously. And I would happily shove him off a bridge sometimes :L. And yes, please do, check out Sherlock it's simply wonderful. It makes me happy inside :L. I want to get a black cat and call it Sherlock, and then when it's grown up, I'll get a grey kitten and call it John (just so it can be smaller). Sherlock and John in cat form! I might not be able to handle it! I'm glad my ramblings cheer you up though :D. You know... after I've completely destroyed your soul with thoughts of Vince without his Howard. I just talk too much- I can't help it. I start talking, and then I remember something, and then I get all excited about it, and then I ramble about that, and then that reminds me of something else to ramble on about... It just goes on and on :L. So not to worry- 'cause I'm the mayor of Rambleton ;). Oh, and- "There's more important things to worry about than your weird sexual fantasies with a hat, you know! There's still a missing Fab lolly to consider! I bought three, I ate one in the queue, and when I came down and checked my tiny desk freezer this morning, there's only one left! Where's the other one gone?" Omg, I'm well happy there's someone to quote to. I quote to Emilehh (the friend I'm co-writing with) and she's just like... "What? Who is this Ice-Cream Eyes and why is he fingering a Pac-Man ghost?" Rubbish. Sorry, this was a really long note, and I'm talking bollocks. Your review just got me well excited and then I went on a ramble-roll xD._**

_**AlKiMi- Thank you very much :D. That's actually really nice to hear, 'cause I reckon I'm boring as and can't write funny for anything :L. And yes! I have readers who watch Luxury Comedy! I'm well happy now. I consider that a success. "Ah, the Bobatron. A schizophrenic flag and a tricky customer. Best let me deal with him- you're on far too much Special K!"I bloody LOVE Fantasy Man :L. Right, prepare for a heart attack because I'm going to say something fairly intelligent. I think that Luxury Comedy is brilliant, because Noel Fielding's just a really funny man in general, but because Julian Barratt's not in it, it's a bit imbalanced. Like, the 'Boosh is well-rounded and well-balanced. The classic double act, with a bit of unique flair. But Luxury Comedy is all Noel Fielding really, and that does leave it a bit lacking. The thing is, you just can't compare them. Because if you put them into the same category, the 'Boosh ends up being the better of the two, 'cause it's got that balanced, rounded quality. But as a standalone show, I think that Luxury Comedy one of the best out there. I think Noel Fielding did a really good job of breaking out from the double act dynamic, and then coped fabulously with it, presenting us with a funny, unique show. It's just good to escape into the total insanity for a while, I think, and for me personally, it just reminds me how little I want- and need- to become a proper adult. I mean, I'm sixteen and I still play with Lego for Christ's sake xD. So long as I remember to handle the adult stuff, I reckon I can maintain a pretty good level of immaturity for the rest of my life ;). Uh... sorry about that- it wasn't a rant or an attack or anything, I swear. I am, in fact, agreeing with you. Just so you know. And I just wanted to state why I perceive it that way :L. Sorry xD. I just couldn't say poor ol' Noelie wasn't as good on his own without making a balanced argument, otherwise I would have felt bad xD. Back to your review, yeah? I'm glad I can cheer you up (if that's the word with this fic's plot :L) and brighten your days a bit ;). As I've mentioned above, my reviewers are what brighten my day, so thank you for that :D. So I'll keep posting so long as you keep reviewing, eh? ;).**_

_**Well, having Luxury Comedy fans here has given me an idea. What about a fun little fic where Noel meets the gang, or vice-versa? Not sure how a Luxury Comedy fic would work out, but I reckon it'd be alright. And as Tony Harrison says, "A concept is formulating!" But it's not Fleetwood Mac. Oh my God, I live near Fleetwood- I've just realised. In Blackpool. I'm well happy now. The faintest and shittest of links ever, but still... Linked to the 'Boosh!**_

_**Oh yeah, so if you're a teenage girl (or a shaman. That'd be cool) in the Blackpool area, I need a flatmate! :L. That's how desperate I am. I will advertise on . Uh... I don't have a flat, as of yet (well, I do, it's a bedsit, but my landlord's served me a notice to get out by July, so... Not 'cause I'm a bad tenant, but because my family lived in the flat below me before they got a house, and basically, the landlord's a fucking dick who's getting my step-brother charged for a crime he didn't do- saying he assaulted him- and he's got to go to court and everything. Over them having our freaking dog in the flat. Yeah, overreaction. So there's a whole feud going on, and I'm just a casualty here) but I want to put in for a two-bedroom on the council, and I need someone to put in with me. Also, I HATE living on my own xD. So yeah. I don't expect anyone to actually take me up on the offer, but it's there ;). To be fair, I'm more venting frustration than asking, but still... If someone wants to, I'm up for it :L.**_

_**Or, if you have a one-bedroom to rent in the Blackpool area, that's always helpful, 'cause I'm gonna have to move, flatmate or not xD. Seriously, I am that desperate as to ask on here. Seriously.**_

_**Well, there's another unreasonably long AN passed by. I'm sorry :P.**_

_**Oh! Before I go, I want to tell you- I'm planning a sequel to this! I know, I know, it's a bit premature, but I know where this story's going now, so I know there's room for a sequel, yeah? So hands up- who wants to see one once I'm done with this? :D.**_

_**Um, final thing, actually. The next chapter's a real downer, just to remind you. So I'd go out and buy happy pills or something, 'cause it might un-cheer you up. What actually is the opposite of cheering someone up? Like, I know it's making them sad, but what's the actual word/phrase that's recognised as the main one that's opposite to it? If you know what I mean :L. Once you tell me, I'll probably remember and be all "Oh yeah!", and then I'll feel stupid for hours xD.**_

_**Anyway, yes. Please review, and don't hesitate to tell me to shut up, 'cause I know I'm a talkative person. I'm just that friendly though! ;).**_

"_**In fact, if you weren't a geezer, I'd be raping you behind the counter!" Ahaha, the Hitcher xD.**_

_**Bye! :D.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Alright everyone? :D. Well, I love you all, as always, and so I have decided to update.**_

_**Basically, this chapter is where Vince loses it properly. Because you know when everything builds up and builds up and eventually you snap? I do, anyway, and I figure it would happen really quickly to Vince. I think he'd just start to wither without Howard. And so this is, in fact, the most depressing thing I have ever written.**_

_**Uh...I was feeling really low when I wrote this, which is why it's just... sad, really. I mean, I guess writing is my outlet, where all my bad feelings go, and that's how I survive day-to-day. And never before has it come across so clear, I'm afraid.**_

_**In fact, the next few chapters are a bit... bad. I wrote them all in one go, see. But after that, I got a good night's sleep, and woke up to beautiful reviews, and felt really good for once, and so the Shaman Council will return in all their fantastic glory in about three/four chapter's time, depending on whether I add another chapter in between (which I'm considering).**_

_**So yeah, I'm really sorry for this downer of a chapter, but try and enjoy, yeah? :P.**_

_**Warning: mention of Vince's naked torso may cause a beauty-induced attack.**_

* * *

The next morning, Vince woke in sheer confusion. He had only a vague idea of what had happened the night before, and his head hurt too much to search for the missing fragments. He wasn't sure how he had come to be on the floor, and when he finally mustered up the energy to make it into the bathroom, he discovered that there was sick in his hair.

Immediately, he ran the shower, stripping and discarding his clothes in the corner. What did it matter if they got all creased and crumpled? He definitely wouldn't be wearing them ever again. He didn't want to be reminded of Howard's travesty of a funeral every time he caught a glimpse of his jacket, or his jeans, or his boots did he?

As he crossed the bathroom, he caught sight of is naked torso in the mirror. Bruises decorated his ribs. That explained the aching then. But how had they got there?

It took him a full two minutes to remember. But then it flooded back. He had been beaten up.

The memory didn't alarm him. In fact, he was left with a strange sense of numbness, like the attack had meant nothing. There would have been a time when he would have been shocked. His self-confidence might even have taken a knock. But then he would have sought out Howard, and the older man would have made it all okay with his kind, comforting words.

But those days had passed, and Vince was certain he deserved nothing more than to be beaten to shit.

The hot water was refreshing, but Vince didn't want to stick around in the silence of the bathroom to be tortured with his thoughts, so he made his shower quick, dashed back into the bedroom with a towel around him and found some clothes for the day. Then he cleaned up the rug as best he could, although it remained stained.

Finally, he made his way to the living room, but there was no sign of Naboo or Bollo. They weren't in the shop either, nor their bedroom. Finally, Vince found a note taped to the fridge.

_Vince,_

_I bet you don't remember me telling you where we're going this week, so I'll say it again. Me and Bollo have gone on a lad's holiday with the gang- it's Saboo's six-hundredth birthday on Thursday. I've got my phone so ring if you need anything, but make it good or I'll set Tony on you. There's a week's worth of meals in the fridge, so they'd best be gone when we get back. And don't just think you can chuck them away. I'll know._

_Don't think you can get away without working either. I want the shop open at least three days this week. Understand?_

_See you on Sunday,_

_Naboo._

_PS, your phone's in the bread bin. You'd better have a good explanation when I get back. Bread bins are for bread, Vince._

Vince sighed deeply, ripping the paper off the fridge and crumpling it up. Great- just what he needed. A week alone with nobody but himself. And... did that mean it was Monday?

Unsure, he peered inside the bread bin, seeking his phone. Curiously, Naboo was right. How the hell did it end up there?

"Are you haunting me, Howard?" he asked aloud. "That'd be just like you, coming back to make my life a misery." There was a faint smile on his face, but all traces of humour faded from his voice as he carried on talking to a man he knew would never hear him again. "Oh, I don't mean that Howard. I'm sorry. Even when you're dead... I just can't help myself."

Shaking his head, he brought up the phone's calendar. Sure enough, it was Monday.

"That Linda woman's coming today, Howard," Vince began again, because he had nobody else to talk to. And, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, it made him feel a tiny bit closer to his missing friend. "I bet you would have liked her. You'd probably start chatting her up and everything. It'd be well sad," he laughed. Then his face fell again. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I? I don't mean to be. It just sort of happens. I can't control it."

Slowly, Vince crossed to the couch and sat. He flicked on the television and tried to watch it, but he just couldn't focus and so he turned it off. Then he drew his legs up onto the chair and sighed again, a deep, heavy sigh.

"It doesn't really matter anyway," he said thoughtfully. "It's- what's that word you taught me ages ago? Oh yeah, 'moot'. It's a moot point. Because if you were here, Linda wouldn't be. In a way, she's like your replacement. But she's not nearly good enough, Howard."

For a moment, Vince just listened to the silence, half-expecting to hear a reply back. But he was bitterly disappointed.

"You're not even listening, are you?" he muttered, more to himself than to Howard.

And that was the beginning of Vince's week of pure hell.

For lack of anything better to do, Vince had the intention of opening the shop every day for as long as possible. It would keep him occupied at least. But he gave up on the second day when not one single customer crossed the threshold. All he ended up doing was standing in Howard's old spot behind the counter and glancing around, horribly drawn to all the objects that reminded him of his deceased friend, lost in bitter-sweet memories.

Linda arrived for the appointment as promised, but she caught Vince in the midst of a particularly low mood swing and he ended up going on a hysterical tirade about the adventures he had been on. All of his stories revolved around Naboo as he desperately tried to prove he wasn't delusional and failed miserably. She left with even less faith in Vince's sanity than she had arrived with, and so he wrote the whole day off and went to bed early- mid-afternoon in fact- after taking four sleeping pills, just for good measure.

That was when the nightmares started. Images of Howard, bleeding, injured and broken. Dying. And Vince was always the one with the knife, or the one knocking him down with a car, or the one pushing him off the roof.

It was clear what his subconscious was trying to tell him. He was a murderer. And he knew it.

The thought plagued him from the very moment he woke up, sweating and screaming in his tangled sheets, to the moment he went to sleep, craving the rest but frightened of what his sick imagination would conjure up next. By day four of the week, Vince's self-confidence had been destroyed by his own mind, his self-esteem and self-worth shredded with it. He was turning his anger in on himself, turning his pain into sheer self-hatred. By day five, he could no longer look himself in the eye. By day six, he wanted to punch his own stupid head in.

There was nothing left to distract him now, nothing that could quieten the voices. They hissed at him, spat words of hatred, told him time and time again that this was all his fault. They assured him that had he not been such a selfish, air-headed dick, he wouldn't have been in this situation. Howard wouldn't have had to die.

Vince tried to eat. He really did. But the first time, his body rejected the food, having been basically starved for almost three weeks. And then he realised that he deserved nothing better. Why should he be allowed to eat, when Howard couldn't? When he had _made_ it so that Howard couldn't?

The next time he ate was when he was in one of his rare, brighter moments. When the voices weren't there. When he could almost believe that it wasn't his fault.

It didn't last. Ten minutes after he'd eaten, the voices closed in on him again, calling him out on his meal, shouting at him for being so fucking selfish, yet again.

Twenty minutes after that, he was in the bathroom with his fingers down his throat.

He didn't cry any more. All the tears in the world couldn't fix this- fix _him_. He wasn't Vince Noir: Rock Star, Socialite and Sunshine Kid any longer. He was Vince Noir: Broken, Lonely and Disturbed. It was funny, because now that Howard was gone, Vince could finally understand how he must have felt every day of his sad, awful existence. And now he completely empathised with that feeling of wanting to die, because he was treading the exact same path.

He couldn't even bring himself to get out of his bed for most of that week. He would just lie there, despondent, but still with those angry voices in his head. He didn't bother to shower, or change his clothes. What did it matter? Nobody would see. His precious hair became tangled and matted, but he barely gave it a thought.

Vince couldn't cope. He hated being alone at the best of times, and according to Howard, he had minor abandonment issues. Or something. Whether or not it was said in jest, Vince didn't know. But now he found himself starting to agree. Howard had gone, left him, and now he was falling apart. Naboo wasn't there. Bollo wasn't there. He wasn't designed to live without human contact. He couldn't take the loneliness. But he didn't bother to tidy himself up, venture outside and attempt to recapture his social life because he didn't want the empty smiles of old acquaintances and the meaningless interactions. He didn't want the mates that cared more about his shoes than his bruises. Nothing, _no one_, could fill that Howard-shaped hole, so there wasn't any point in trying.

So he suffered the loneliness, because it couldn't be healed, it couldn't be helped, and deep down, he knew he had brought it on himself. He _deserved_ this. Sometimes, in his lighter moments, he would take to talking to Howard and that would ease the crushing emptiness he felt. But the rest of the time, he was silent. He just left the voices to do the talking. He didn't argue or fight back, because he knew they were right. He was useless, selfish, and everyone _would_ be better off without him.

By day seven, Vince had never been in a worst state. He needed to eat. He felt dizzy and light-headed, and the hunger gnawed at him constantly, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. He was no longer attractive skinny. He was unhealthy skinny. He needed to shower, to sort his hair out, get some clean clothes on and at least appear to be alright for when Naboo and Bollo returned home, but he couldn't muster up the effort.

Somewhere inside his mind, Vince realised what was going on. He had snapped. Something had triggered this mindset. And now, no matter now hard he prayed, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to how he was. Not without a certain tall, jazzy freak and a lot of time to heal.

It was a fast decline into deep depression, and for the first time in his life, Vince couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

* * *

_**Okay, so yeah... I apologise for thoroughly depressing you all.**_

_**Um... reviews. I just love them :D. You're all fantastic, and thank you so much for snapping me out of my sad little misery mood swings ;).**_

_**Roy The Starfish- I can't believe there's someone on here who lives so close by :L! I wouldn't worry too much though- I expect sharing a flat with me would be quite tedious. I'm messy, loud, and I would in fact end up waking you up at all hours with loud music or asking to borrow stuff or just my general clumsiness (I literally struggle to stand up without falling over. Which is rather embarrassing on the bus. Or it would be, but luckily, I'm not self-conscious, so I find it quite hilarious when I fall down the stairs from the top deck or whatever ;)). But cheers, I reckon it'd be pretty darn cool sharing a flat with a starfish- second best after a shaman, don't'cha know? :D. I can't believe anyone even read my little self-indulgent ramble about my lack of a flatmate, so cheers for that ;P. And thank you for being so kind about my writing, too :D.**_

_**BatsNotDogs- It's cool, I love long reviews :D. Haha, of course I don't mind your rambling, it's really nice to see I'm not the only highly-excitable teen on here xD. I do love drama, I'm afraid, I thrive off of it in fact, so lucky you love a bit too, 'cause otherwise I reckon it'd probably get old quickly :L. I think we might get the old Vince back, or something that resembles him, but most of the healing will be done in the sequel. Right now, the main focus is Vince's angst, and general missing-of-Howard-ness I'm afraid. Because I think sad Vince is just the sweetest thing ever (I mean seriously, the start of "The Power of the Crimp" just makes my heart melt every time. Like warm Nutella, in fact). I'm not going to give too much away, but I reckon the direction this is taking will end up being well obvious soon :L. But I do apologise for depressing you. Honestly. Things WILL get better! I think I owe you lot that much :D. Yeah, I'm sixteen, nearly seventeen too- and I completely agree. It's so refreshing to meet someone like me, 'cause I was starting to think I was just a total freak ;). I'm glad that's not the case :D. Oh, Luxury Comedy is just the best, aside from 'Boosh obviously, but it's not really even in the same genre, so I think it isn't fair to compare them anyway :D. I wish my dad was into stuff like Luxury Comedy and 'Boosh- we haven't sat down and watched anything together since my mum died, because he just has no taste in TV :P. But I got my step-sister into 'Boosh (she well loves it now. She's got the moon on her door and everything :L), which I consider to be a massive breakthrough, given that she was more obsessed with stuff like Hannah Montana. I have nothing against it, I just don't find it to be good at all xD. "You take your little black pants off boy." Ah, quotes are good. And that squirrel makes me laugh every time, without fail xD. "Yeah, but I could go, 'Hello Michael. Hello Michael. Hello Michael'." "Yeah, but I could go, 'Put him, put him, put him in the dark, Timothy'!" Or jar. I mean, the subtitles say dark, but it sounds like jar. And I'd much prefer for Timothy to be putting people in jars, rather than the dark, because I think that's just a fantastic idea. Putting people in jars, I mean. Just imagine the possibilities! xD. I could get a Noel Fielding and a Julian Barratt in a jar. Wow. I'd feed them Nik-Naks and everything. My tiny mind has just been blown. But back to the freaking point :L. Thank you so much, yet again, for your lovely, lovely compliments. Urgh... I just... I love it :D. Although I fear my ego may swell terribly, and I won't actually have the talent to back it up. Because as previously mentioned, I really don't have a ton of confidence in my writing. But I'm a self-depreciating fool, so thank you all the same :D.**_

_**AlKiMi- Then you shall have a sequel, sir! :D. That was my attempt at sounding like Howard, by the way ;). Well, what can I say? Vince isn't on the rug any more, but unfortunately, he is all by himself still. I'm really sorry you to you, too, for being so terribly kind :D. I'm sure I don't deserve it, particularly after a chapter like this! And I know, writing drunkenness is a bitch, isn't it? But it has to be done, because it's simply necessary. And I think you did a pretty decent job in your fic, for someone who hasn't been drunk before :D. I've gotta ask- is that because you're underage, or are you just boring? ;). I'm kidding, of course. You are most certainly not boring, I promise :D. And I completely agree about Luxury Comedy. In fact, I could have just said that without going on a huge ramble. Oh, how I wish I could be direct and to the point :( :P. Cool, I've started writing one, and it has a rather brilliant concept, I do believe. Well, as good as it can get, anyway. The problem I now have is that I keep on typing 'Vince' instead of 'Noel', because they're well easy to get mixed up xD. And I'm sorry for making you tear up, yet again, but prepare because things do get lighter! Just... not right away. So I'm sorry for that xD.**_

_**Omg, well, I have to tell you all why I'm like, mega-trega excited. The parents (I refer to them a 'the' parents, in case you're wondering- although I doubt you are- because one of them is my real parent, my father, and the other is his fiancee, although it's like she's my step-mum because we're basically like a proper family now. So when I refer to my 'step-brother and step-sisters', we aren't actually related yet) send their clothes to a laundrette, right, because they haven't got a washer or a dryer yet 'cause they haven't been in their house long. And guess what? Well, the laundrette delivers them back because it's really far away, and the delivery guy is called Noel! So I'm well happy about that. I can't believe it! My life is fairly sad, yeah :L.**_

_**Also, I just thought I'd tell you about my Luxury Comedy/'Boosh fic. It's going to be posted in the 'Boosh category, although I'm not sure when, because I think people aren't going to physically look for Luxury Comedy ones, crossover or not, since it's not even a category yet (I don't think- I've not checked for a while). And also, I reckon a lot of 'Boosh fans would have watched Luxury Comedy since it's Noel, so yeah. The plot is well simple. Basically, Secret Peter's helping his mate Bob Fossil out by offering Noel's hut up to Vince and Howard to go and stay. Because they've been sent away to the jungle to recapture their creativity, since Fossil wants them at their best :L. Noel isn't too happy about this, and him and Vince end up clashing a bit (because I reckon they would). So ultimately, it's just about the character's encounters with each other and stuff. And I'll probably stick some Naboo and Bollo in for good measure.**_

_**I'm pretty sure it'll end up being better than it sounds. I'm already quite proud of the first chapter, so after I've written a bit more, I'll post, yeah? It's going to be called 'The Luxury Boosh', to let you know. Get me, pioneering into new crossover territories ;).**_

_**Also, the first chapter will be rather heavy on mentioning Nik-Naks, since I'm kind of obsessed with them right now xD. Even though I haven't actually eaten a packet of them for about six years. I mean, I **_**think ****_I like them. I'm not sure :L. So try not to tell the company who makes 'em, or they might tell me off, yeah? ;)._**

_**Um, yeah, that's actually about all I have to say, to be fair. So please, please, don't hesitate to review, because I absolutely love it when I get reviews. Seriously. And it's not just like, because you're being nice to me or whatever, it's just because I love to hear from my readers, even if it's a bit critical!**_

_**Alright, love you all, yeah? :D. Bye-bye :D.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**This is a speedy update dedicated to you, AlKiMi, just because I nearly made you cry in McDonald's. I'm really sorry for that :(.**_

_**Okay, well this is from Naboo's point of view, because I needed another filler chapter, and it seemed only appropriate.**_

_**Also, has anyone seen my shoes? And I ask that in all seriousness, because I swear to God, I was wearing them a minute ago and I'm almost certain I haven't taken them off. I'm a little bit freaked out. They're my favourites too. I adore them. So where the hell have they gone?**_

_**Uh, yeah, the chapter. Enjoy... or don't. S'up to you really ;).**_

* * *

Naboo could feel that something was off as soon as he stepped inside the Nabootique. He stopped dead, looking around, trying to sense what it was. Bollo almost collided with him as he backed in after, still waving to the other shaman as they flew away.

"Ugh," he grunted, stopping himself just in time. "What wrong?"

"Vince," Naboo said simply. Then he turned to his familiar. "I'll find out what's wrong. You unpack."

"Be gentle," Bollo advised. "Kind. Vince like delicate butterfly."

"I will be!" Naboo said defensively, already heading up the stairs.

It took the shaman all of five seconds to figure out that Vince was in his room, given that he was nowhere else in sight. He knocked before entering, which was a rarity, but didn't wait for a reply before opening the door.

The curtains were drawn and the room was dark. He could see a Vince-sized shape under the covers of his bed. When he flicked on the light, he realised he was being scowled at.

"You shit me up," Vince moaned, sitting up.

"You look terrible, Vince."

"Oh, do I? Cheers."

His words were tinged with a kind of bitter cynicism Naboo would never have dreamed of hearing from Vince. But, seeing the expression of surprise on his face, Vince slumped, his blue eyes softening.

"Sorry, Naboo."

"You've been saying that a lot recently."

"Yeah, well, I do a lot wrong, don't I?"

There was an unmistakable self-loathing in the words. Just how long had they been away? Because this was not the Vince they left behind.

Naboo was a hard man to touch, but he was not totally heartless. In fact, he felt a strong surge of pity as he examined Vince's face. The angles, much bonier than when they had left. The eyes, which seemed to have aged by at least ten years. The dark shadows under those eyes. The useless half-stubble that Vince always got when he didn't shave for a couple of days. And worst of all- the lank, tangled hair that seemed to stick up in every direction.

And because Naboo was not a man given to heartfelt speeches or pep talks or even offering comfort of any kind, he had absolutely nothing to say. Aside from:

"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up, Vince? You look like a mess."

And then he left, silently berating himself for not saying any of the large selection of things he _could_ have said to boost Vince's ego a bit more. Vince trusted him, he knew. He always looked to him to take care of a situation, or help him out when he was in too much trouble to handle by himself.

When he entered his bedroom, Bollo was there, unpacking slowly.

"Vince okay?" he asked.

"No, he isn't."

Bollo stopped immediately, giving Naboo his full attention. It was amazing how much pull Vince had over everyone.

"What the matter?"

"He's hit the wall. Depression, by the looks of it. Bad, too. Have you checked the fridge yet?"

"Yes- on way in. Only two meals gone."

"This is a disaster!" Naboo cried, throwing his hands in the air to punctuate his point. "He's going to kill himself, the way he's going! This is all Saboo's fault! Who goes to the Head Shaman and _suggests_ he shut down the afterlife? What about all the great bars over there?"

"That beside point," Bollo pointed out.

"It doesn't matter! If Vince gets any worse we're going to have to go and petition the council. In the mean time... We'll just need to keep our distance."

"We'll keep an eye on him though?"

"Yeah, of course." Naboo sat on his bed with a sigh. "It's all we can do for now."

* * *

_**Well, this is going to be a double-update because that was well short, yeah? So I'll upload the next chapter in a minute, because you all deserve it. Truly :D. Particularly you, AlKiMi, just because I nearly made you cry. Sorry again.**_

_**AlKiMi- I know, you're the only reviewer so far, but I've got to mark out my reply to you like this 'cause I'm just OCD like that xD. Probably, anyway :L. Cheers for reviewing so quickly :D. I'm really sorry for completely destroying Vince. Truly, I am. But it is all necessary. Also, I don't know what I'm talking about asking you if you're underage and that's why you don't drink. When I asked it, I asked it as if I wasn't underage. Which I am, and I've honestly only just realised that xD. Nah, I don't think that's boring though. I reckon that's nice and sensible, to be fair :). I, too, held that philosophy and refused my friends when they offered me a drink. But then I discovered how fun drinking is and... Well, let's just say I do it WAAAAAY too often :L. And put my shoes in cupboards for some reason. I seriously can not believe it :L. On a different note, I'll try and post the crossover in the next day or two, since I've pretty much finished writing this story now (haha, I know the happy ending. Haha ;)) :D. Now how about that- you demanded it on the same night, and I delivered. Well look at that. Don't expect it every time though, it's just 'cause I nearly made you cry in public, yeah? ;).**_

_**Alrighty, stick around for my next update in a mo, yeah? :D.**_

_**Be back in a minute ;).**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Told ya I'd be back :D. Uh, another downer one. I'm sorry. And I really don't have much else to say...**_

_**Oh, this also is dedicated to you, AlKiMi, because I feel the last chapter really didn't make it up to you :D.**_

* * *

For Vince, the next few weeks were hardly any better. Now, not only did he have those hateful voices hurling abuse at him constantly, he had Naboo or Bollo following him everywhere. Forcing him to eat, to shower, to comb his hair. Forcing him to brush his teeth, for God's sake, like he was four.

After a couple of days, he fell into a sort of routine. The closest thing he had to normality, it seemed. In the morning, he would wake up, lie in bed for an hour and think of all the colourful ways he might die during the day, finally make himself go out into the front room and then get force-fed breakfast. As soon as he could slip away, normally when he went off for his 'morning shower' (that was really more just a wash in the sink with the shower running), he found himself over the toilet, jamming something- a toothbrush handle, his own fingers, even an ice-lolly stick once- down his throat.

After this, he was pretty much left to do his own thing. Until lunch, that was, where he was forced to choke down some more food. This sent him straight back to the bathroom. And then again in the evenings, only this was the worst. By this time in the day, his throat was already strained and sore. His stomach was unsettled. And his body was really unhappy about rejecting the food at the best of times, so when he'd just had a big meal, it was made even worse. But still he knelt there, emptying the nutrients he needed so desperately into the toilet bowl, weeping as he settled back against the wall with a painful throat and a sore stomach.

It wasn't his fault. The more he obeyed the voices and purged, the less he actually wanted to eat. He found himself inventing excuses, trying to justify himself. What if Howard had killed himself because he didn't want Vince? What if he was too fat, or too ugly? And then there was still that one, horrible thought that stuck with him no matter what was happening. _You deserve nothing better_.

After the first week, Vince found himself blaming Naboo and Bollo. Why were they torturing him like this? Couldn't they see what it was doing to him? His heart knew that they were only trying to help, but his head hissed at him, insisted they were doing it because they hated him. They wanted him to suffer. And so, come the second week of Naboo's return, Vince was giving the shaman and his familiar as wide a berth as he could manage.

For the larger part of his days, Vince found himself locked in the bathroom. If he wasn't throwing up or just generally hiding from his flatmates, he was curled against the wall, sobbing silently. The tears had definitely started again. But this time, he wasn't just crying for Howard. He was crying for himself. The person he had once been. That naïve optimism. That smile that was so easy because he simply didn't understand what true pain felt like.

He was crying because everything was topsy-turvy and he just didn't know how to put it right. Naboo and Bollo hated him now. They were hurting him, causing him so much pain and hassle. Why would they want him? Look at what he had done. He had driven a good man- a great man- to the edge, and then given him a huge, almighty push to send him toppling to his death. He wanted his old life. The life where they laughed together, and had silly arguments and fantastic adventures. The life where he was happy. The life he had thought made Howard happy. But none of that was ever coming back, and that thought shattered his fragile heart over and over again.

Five weeks after Howard's death and Vince discovered self-harm.

It was barely anything at first. He was pushing the handle of his slender razor down his throat, enticing the familiar gagging, feeling the strained muscles in his throat and stomach complain unhappily. But it had to be done.

Then, one of the blades nicked his finger as he squeezed the head of the razor too tight. It was sort of fascinating as he watched the blood ooze sluggishly from the cut. There was a kind of savage pleasure in watching himself bleed.

And then that voice started up again.

_'You should do it, you know,'_ it hissed at him. _'After all, how else will you get what you're owed? What you _deserve_?'_

When Vince remained rooted to the spot, another voice chipped in. One that sounded just like Howard. But it was just trying to trick him... Right?

_'Yes, go on Vince. Cut yourself. Hurt yourself. What's a couple of cuts compared to what I've been through, eh? And we all know who's fault that was...'_

It sounded so real. Vince had almost forgotten Howard's voice. He struggled to remember the pitch, the tone. He could just barely remember the accent. But there it was. Undeniable, right inside his own head. And if he had forgotten, then this had to be real, didn't it?

"I'm sorry, Howard," he whispered, bitter tears streaming down his cheeks. "I get it now. I don't want to live either."

The voice didn't respond. Vince blinked away his tears.

Numb to everything, he dropped the razor on the floor and stamped down on it with his boot. The plastic casing shattered easily. Then he dropped to his knees and picked the blades out of the debris, sitting back against the wall.

His breath hitched in his throat as he thought of where was best. Then, with shaking hands, he rolled up his left sleeve and positioned the razor at the top of his arm.

It cut so much easier than he had expected. It was like a knife in butter. As a result, it was deeper than intended.

The sting was pleasant, in a twisted way. It made him feel better, to have some outlet for the anger. Seeing the blood gave him a sick satisfaction he simply couldn't justify. But he left it there, for fear of being found out. He could explain away one cut, but several? He wouldn't stand a chance against Naboo's reasoning, and then he'd probably be carted off to some loony bin.

Although Vince wasn't sure that would be such a bad thing. He was honestly starting to question if he was losing his mind.

The next day though, he picked it up again and made three more slashes. The day after that, he didn't do any, to give his cuts some time to heal.

The day after that, he lost control.

He was drunk. He'd nicked some of Naboo's vodka to drown out the voices. He wanted a peaceful day for once.

But they didn't go away. If anything, he had even less control of himself. They drove him into the bathroom, forced him to resume his usual position on the floor in front of the toilet with his back to the wall. They told him to get the razors from where he had hidden them, in a small box of cosmetics he kept behind the sink. And they told him to get slicing.

He did. In fact, the more he cut, the more his anger grew, until he couldn't stop it. And then, all of a sudden, it just... did.

Everything stopped.

The self-loathing, the pure anger Vince had felt just seconds before vanished. The sadness, the depression... Everything. It all just went away. And Vince could see himself clearly.

He was fucked up.

His arm was bleeding badly. It was impossible to count how many times he had slashed at it, but it hurt. A lot.

He was thin, he was weak. He was pathetic.

And then it all crashed back onto him, the weight of his pain and sorrow. His moment of clarity was gone.

To anyone else, they might have been able to use that as a tool to get their lives back on track. To give them a sense of perspective.

But Vince's brain didn't work like everyone else's, and that was why his default setting had been happy for so long. Because a miserable Vince was a dangerous Vince. Particularly since he couldn't think clearly, nor muster up enough self-control to stop his train of thought. He was just too drunk.

And that was why, to his mind, there was only one thing to do. One thing that could fix everything.

But first, he had to say goodbye.

* * *

_**Also not that long, really. But still.**_

_**Um... it's a bit... it just doesn't read right to me. So yeah. But I can't put my finger on what's wrong.**_

_**Basically, this was something else I wrote when I was quite low. And yeah, I've been in a similar position before (which is why alcohol and depression really don't mix, because if they coincide, it does equal a pretty awful mood swing :L). SO that's where my inspiration came from for this really. But yet again, let's not dwell on that, eh? ;).**_

_**I still haven't found my trainers. Thought you should know. Maybe Pete's stolen them. I might have to go to Megabowl with my socks on and everything. Damn xD.**_

_**The next chapter is very short, yet again, so it will, in fact, be a double update with... Yep, that's right... The Shaman Council! So I'm well looking forward to updating tomorrow ;).**_

_**So I'll see you all then, yeah?**_

_**Look at me, doing a fairly short AN for once. It's because I'm exhausted, so I'll probably be getting to bed now xD.**_

_**Please, please review. I'd just love to wake up to loads of reviews. That'd be... Well, I'd probably cry. But good crying :D.**_

_**So bye-bye, and I love you all! ...Still :D.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_** Oh dear. A drunken man's getting the shit kicked out of him outside my flat. Don't I live in a beautiful area of town?**_

_**Oh yeah, right :L.**_

_**Alright, everyone? :). So this is from Naboo's PoV as well, because... well, it's just tying everything together really. Oh, and it's well short. Again. Sorry :L.**_

_**Enjoy :).**_

* * *

At first, Naboo thought he might have finally have had enough weed in his system to cause this hallucination. But then the drunken, bleeding Vince collapsed onto the sofa, partially over him, and he knew it was all too real.

"Shit, Vince, what have you done to yourself?"

"Hmm?" Vince looked down at his arm, as if surprised to see it in that state. "Oh, nothing."

Naboo scowled at him, clearly demanding explanation, but Vince just stared back with his eyes wide. After a moment, he turned away, dropping it but still frowning with worry. There wouldn't be much point in pressing him about it while he was in such a state.

"Do you want something for it?" he asked after a moment, turning back to find Vince still looking at him, an expression of pure concentration on his face. "What?"

"I love you, Naboo. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah..."

He was more than just worried now. He was downright alarmed. Vince's words were tinged with some emotion he could quite place, and his eyes were shining and sorrowful.

"I'll get you something to stop the bleeding, yeah?" he offered when Vince said no more. But as he stood, he felt something pull at his sleeve, hard. It was Vince, hauling himself to his feet after him.

"I mean it."

"Good. Now get off."

Naboo started to walk away, but Vince rushed to stand in his way, wobbling dangerously on the spot. How much had he had to drink?

"No, stop. I need to talk to you."

Naboo debated whether or not to ignore him, but there was no point in trying to reason with him. He was obviously off his face. So he simply stood there expectantly.

Again, Vince simply stared, eyes boring into his with the kind of intensity that would have made anybody else look away. But Naboo wasn't just anybody. He held his gaze, trying to read it, but for the first time ever, he got nothing.

"What?" he asked again, more agitated this time. There was something so wrong here, and he couldn't figure out what.

And then Vince blurted something out that made his heart plummet and his stomach lurch.

"I'm going to die, but it's okay because I'll be out of your way and then I can see Howard again."

The words were said with a childlike simplicity that was shattered by the next word out of his mouth.

"Shit. Ignore that."

He leant forward now, towering over Naboo and leaning a hand on each of the shaman's shoulders. He bent his head in to whisper, close enough for him to smell the vodka on his breath.

"See, I'm a fuck-up, yeah? So if I kill myself, I can't fuck stuff up here any more, and then I can find Howard in the afterlife and put things right with him. 'Cause I was a horrible mate, Naboo, and I've gotta sort it out."

"Alright Vince," Naboo said wearily. "It's just the booze talking. Come on, let's get you to bed so you can sleep it off."

"No!" Vince insisted, yanking his arm away as the shaman tried to take it. "I've got to do this."

Something in his tone told Naboo that it wasn't just the drink. Vince was serious, pissed or not.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" he cried angrily, making another grab for Vince. "Bollo? Get the magic carpet off the washing line! I'm going to have to sort this out once and for all."

* * *

_**Ahahaha! Can you see where this is going now?**_

_**I can ;).**_

_**So this is a double-update remember, and the Shaman Council's up next, so stick around for that, yeah? And then I'll say everything I need to say at the end of that one, alrighty?**_

_**Problem is, I'm going to miss my bus if I don't leave my flat like... the second this is uploaded, so it might have to wait until ten/eleven tonight. Either way, it'll be up soon-ish. Promise :D.**_

_**So bear with me, I will be back soon!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Back, as promised, with the second instalment of my double-update :).**_

_**So yeah, I tried to make this one as funny as possible, yeah? To make up for the absolute downers of the last chapters.**_

* * *

Vince sat in the corner of the clearing, leaning his back against a tree and watching the scene unfold in front of him. Naboo had given him something that made him sober up, and then quickly bandaged his arm before bundling him onto the magic carpet and bringing him here. Now his head was pounding and he was feeling more than a little bit ashamed of himself. Even he didn't know what was wrong with him, but it was really starting to frighten him. Because he might have been drunk, but the feelings were one hundred percent real. He wanted to die. He _needed_ to die. There was no way he could carry on like this.

Currently, Naboo was stood before the Shaman Council. Saboo was ranting about something, and he looked quite angry, so Vince decided it might be a good point to start listening.

"...And then you bring a _mortal _into our midst. Head Shaman, you cannot leave this atrocity to go unpunished."

"It's an outrage!" chipped in Tony. "Our meeting place has remained sacred for thousands of years! When I was a young man-"

"Yes, thank you," Dennis silenced harshly. Then he turned to Naboo. "What's your excuse for this grave disrespect of the oldest of our traditions?"

"It's an emergency!" Naboo cried. "There's nothing else I could do!"

"An emergency?" Tony repeated in disbelief. Vince found himself hating the creature more and more every time he opened his mouth. "It's an outrage, that's what it is!"

Saboo gave a long-suffering sigh. "Do you know any other adjectives, Tony?"

Tony squirmed in a circle to look at his friend-slash-enemy.

"I do, yes," he responded simply. Saboo looked at him expectantly, waiting for something else to follow. Proof, maybe. Perhaps a list of other adjectives. Or more likely some sort of smart comment or insult. But nothing came. Tony simply gazed back.

"Really?" Saboo challenged, clearly eager to start an argument. "I wouldn't have thought there was enough space in your plum-sized brain."

It worked. Tony was incensed by this attack.

"I'll admit it, my brain may be the size of a plum. But I'll have you know that there's three of them rolling around in here!"

"Oh, well, in that case I apologise. Clearly we're in the presence of a genius."

"That's right. You didn't realise what you were dealing with, did you?"

"Have you ever heard of sarcasm, you tentacled freak?"

"Enough!" Dennis cried. "Very well, Naboo. What is your emergency?"

Tony turned back to Naboo, too curious to continue his argument.

"Well Howard's dead, yeah?"

"He is journeying through the great beyond," Dennis confirmed, with a sense of grandeur that really didn't fit into the conversation.

"Well is there any way to bring him back?" Naboo asked, direct as always.

"'Bring him back'?" Tony cried, almost as if on cue. "What do you think this is? _Pushing Daisies_?"

"Shut up, will you?" Naboo suddenly turned and snapped angrily, a sure sign that for once, he was truly stressed out.

Saboo gave a single, mirthless laugh.

"Ha! You got told!" he exclaimed childishly. When everyone turned to look at him, his smirk was wiped away and he bowed his head, sombre once more.

"Just hear me out, yeah?" Naboo said, directing his words back to Dennis. The Head Shaman looked thoughtful for a moment.

Then Saboo spoke again, his embarrassment of a few moments ago seemingly forgotten.

"You're not honestly considering this outrage, are you?" he demanded of Dennis. Tony shot him a glare.

"Do you mind?"

"What? You own that word now, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Prove it. Show me the documents."

"I don't have them with me now, do I? I haven't got my briefcase."

"There's a surprise. What do you even need a briefcase _for_?"

Tony paused, his eyes shifting from side to side.

"All the important stuff," he floundered.

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"All my documents. ...For the words I own."

"Can we _please _return to the matter in hand?" Dennis interrupted, as Saboo opened his mouth to retort. "Go on, Naboo. Continue."

"Well if we can bring Howard back then Vince won't kill himself."

All eyes turned to Vince. He glared at Naboo for announcing it so casually, in the way he might have announced that it was going to rain.

"Cheers," he snapped.

"What's it to you, anyway?" Tony asked, being the first to turn his attention back to Naboo. Vince scowled at him. Did he know how to hold his tongue? "I thought you hated that moustachioed nut-job."

Vince's scowl deepened. How could he talk about Howard like that? He didn't even know him.

"You said you thought he was a great, jazz-loving oaf," Saboo agreed.

"Oh did you?" Vince called angrily from across the clearing. He stared at the tiny shaman, unable to believe that he hadn't cared for Howard. "You think it's alright to talk about him behind his back then?"

"Calm down, Vince. I'm trying to sort this out."

"No!" Vince was on his feet now, although he didn't remember moving to stand up. He crossed to where Naboo stood, challenging him. "Howard showed you nothing but respect. If you didn't like him, you didn't have to air your views to the world, did you? Or better still, if you had a problem with him, maybe you could have said it to his face instead of insulting him to your bitchy mates!" Then he realised that he really needed to be on the better side of the Shaman Council and glanced toward them. "No offence."

"Oh, none taken," Saboo responded sarcastically. Vince had a sudden, strong impulse to stick his tongue out at him, but beat it down. There were more important issues at hand, and he could always give him a good slap later if things didn't turn out.

Vaguely, he wondered where all this aggression was coming from, but he dismissed it. Five minutes in the company of these twats was more than enough to send anyone to violence, he reasoned.

"Go and sit down, yeah? I'll sort it," was all Naboo had to say in his defence. Vince had thought that if there was one time in his life where an apology was due, it was at that moment, so he shook his head.

"You've done enough thanks," he replied coolly. Then he turned back to the council. "Head Shaman, you've got to let me cross into the afterlife and fetch Howard back. I can't live without him. It's that simple."

He paused. He didn't really know what else to say. But then he decided to be truthful and the words came without thought. As he spoke, he could feel his old confidence returning, a little bit of the old Vince Noir resurfacing.

"I can't even function without him. You met me before he died, yeah? And look at me now. I can't eat. I can't think straight. I'm... broken, really. It's like a chunk of me's just gone. I feel like someone's chopped my arms off or something. And I was a really rubbish mate. I was always horrible to him and I didn't appreciate him at all. But I cared about him and just because I forgot to show him that, he had to go and off himself. So please, can't you give us a second chance? I know I don't exactly deserve one, but he does, and this time I'll do everything right, I swear. And things will be like they used to, but better, and this time he'll be happy too."

The words weren't poetic or beautiful, but they were honest.

"Vince," Dennis said sympathetically, like he was an old friend, "the afterlife is out of bounds. There is nothing I can do."

Vince just stared in disbelief. Had he not been considering it just moments before?

"There are, however, other methods. Altogether less effective ones, but it's a route we can go down if you so wish."

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to argue. He tried not to see it as a defeat. He tried to recapture some semblance of optimism and focus on the positive- they were open to bringing him back, one way or another.

"You don't get it, do you?" he asked, trying to keep the sudden urgency he felt out of his tone for fear it would be perceived as unpleasantness. "Howard didn't- doesn't- want to live. So why would he want to be dragged from his happy afterlife and dumped back on Earth? I've got to go to him, try and convince him that things have changed. That things _will_ change."

"Then I'm afraid your request is impossible. I'm sorry."

"If you don't help me," Vince said, voice trembling from pent-up emotion, "I'll kill myself and find a way back from the other side, with Howard."

The ache in his chest and the lump in his throat were no longer from grief. They were from the pain of separation, of knowing that Howard _could _come back. Of knowing that the possibility was there, right in front of him. A tangible idea. And yet it was still something he was being denied.

Howard was no longer dead, in his mind. He was simply lost, and Vince was filled with an impossible determination to find him.

"Shit off!" Tony's voice cut through the heavy silence, his loud, brash tone completely inappropriate. "You're bluffing, son."

"Am I?" Vince responded, narrowing his eyes at the odd pink creature. He held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his bloody bandage, which he quickly unravelled. His arm was covered in untidy slashes, but thankfully, they weren't bleeding any more. "You see this? I did this earlier. Not because I was drunk," he said, with a glance that warned Naboo to hold his tongue. "I don't even think I can explain it properly. But..." He really didn't want to admit his weakness to so many people, but he knew he had to. For Howard. "It's like, the last few weeks have been hell. I can't escape the fact that this is all my fault. I should have treated Howard better, not torn down his self-confidence every time we held a conversation. I drove him to kill himself, I'm almost positive. And I've really hated myself for it. And this is what happened," he finished, with a shrug. The words had come easier than he had expected them to. Then he remembered his point and added, "I'll do anything to get Howard back. I'll do anything _for_ Howard, full stop. I just want the chance to make it up to him."

The silence fell again. Vince stared expectantly at Dennis, who was thoughtful again. Inwardly, he prayed that the verdict would be good.

"I'm sorry, but my hands are tied," Dennis began. "If there was any way at all to transport you to the other side, I would gladly offer it up, but as it is..."

Just as Vince's heart plummeted into his boots, something very unexpected happened.

"Dennis, you dense twat!" Tony called. "Just give him the bleeding potion!"

"I cannot," Dennis informed him sombrely. "It's too much to ask of a mere mortal. And far too risky."

"You heard the man," Saboo argued. "He's willing to do whatever it takes!"

"That is very true, Saboo. But how would he bring his friend back with him?" Dennis asked.

"I'm sorry, what are you on about?" Vince asked carefully.

It was Naboo that responded. "The draught of living death," he replied casually.

"Isn't that from Harry Potter?" Vince frowned, recalling one of the few books he had ever read.

"Nah. J. K. Rowling nicked it from us. It allows the drinker to visit the afterlife."

"We could open a gateway from this side. It would take some work, but if we got the timing right..." Dennis let his sentence hang. After a moment, Tony did the closest thing to nodding he could muster, which involved his entire being rocking back and forth in a way that was almost comical

"Let's do it."

"Very well," Dennis conceded with a bow of his head.

Vince would have responded, but words simply couldn't express the surprise and thankfulness that bubbled into his chest.

Finally, after over a month of telling himself it would never happen, he was going to see Howard again.

* * *

_**Well, well, well. I've rather given the game away with this chapter, haven't I? Or have I? Hmm...**_

_**Do YOU know where this story's going? As previously mentioned... I do ;). In fact, I've written it all now.**_

_**There's not a great deal of chapters left, because it was either going to be a really long fic, or a short fic and a sequel, and since I don't know how long the sequel will end up, I reckon there'll end up being more chapters in total. If you get me :L.**_

_**Right... well, what can I say? Reviews... amazing, as always. Cheers guys :).**_

_**AlKiMi- I do see your emotions, yes, I'm sorry. Are they supposed to be that colour? Because that looks a bit unhealthy to me... ;). I hope you got to sleep alright though, dodgy emotions or not ;). The happy ending is spiralling nearer and nearer, I'm afraid, but I'll post a sequel pretty darn soon, I promise. I'm just having so much bleedin' fun with this story- I'm not ready to let it go yet, I swear :). Oh, and I should clarify. I made a reference to hiding my shoes when I replied to your last review. That had absolutely nothing to do with my (currently still) missing shoes that I mentioned in my first AN of that update- I HAD written an anecdote about how I hid my shoes in a cupboard once when I was drunk, but I just couldn't be bothered typing out the whole story 'cause I was well tired, so I deleted it. Then I thought I'd finished it, and ended up referencing it when talking to you. Although I'm sure it doesn't really matter enough to write all this bollocks, but I just had to clear that up ;). Also, NO! I cannot cancel my life for you! ;). I'm kidding, I'd honestly love to if I could, 'cause writing's like... my entire life, so :L. But unfortunately, I have to go up to my dad's if I wish to eat, since my kitchen consists of a microwave and a pile of swiss rolls. Yeah, okay, that's pretty cool, but I can't live off ASDA swiss rolls, however nice they are. I'll end up with scurvy or something ;).**_

_**BatsNotDogs- Good evening :). Uhm... I'm sorry for making you feel down. Truly. But I'm glad you don't mind too much! :D. Yeah, I completely agree, the Shaman Council are well fun to write for, but this is their last appearance in this fic, so enjoy them while you can! I've no idea if they'll be in the sequel, but we shall see xD. Would you like them to be? 'Cause if my readers want it, they get it...**_

_**So yeah, did anyone get the Pushing Daisies line? I've never actually seen it, but my parents were well into it, so I thought I'd stick that in there, yeah?**_

_**I'm going to post the first chapter of The Luxury Boosh tonight as well, just to gauge reactions, yeah? So if you're interested, check that out- odds are, by the time you're finished with this, it'll be up, so yeah :). You might have to search/go to my profile to find it though, 'cause everything I post takes about a year to show up. FF just hates me xD.**_

_**Also, when I left my flat, there were a bunch of drunk Aussies outside, sat outside the front door. And they asked me if I had any weed. Which is nice. I should have made a Naboo reference. I'm well disappointed in myself. And they mocked me for having a Batman hoodie on. But Batman's amazing. So asked them why the fuck they were drinking Carlsberg, not Foster's, since they're from down under. And then asked them for a can. They said no. Bitches ;).**_

_**Funny thing is, I coulda sold them the number for a dealer. Gutted I didn't really. Also, I do smoke it occasionally. VERY occasionally. So don't go getting a horrible opinion of me, yeah? ;).**_

_**Uh... yeah, probably shouldn't have admitted that online. But I thought you should know anyway xD. I am, in fact, Naboo. Secretly. I peel off my mask and I'm a tiny shaman underneath. Not a sixteen year old girl.**_

_**And I STILL don't know where my shoes are. I'm pretty confused about that. They've just vanished. And it's not like my flat's big, either. Maybe they just disintergrated. I have had them since I was twelve after all. And no, I haven't stopped growing. And no, I'm not a tiny-footed freak. They were just way too big for me when I bought them xD.**_

_**I'm also going to shamelessly harrass you about Avenged Sevenfold again. I INSIST that you check out Gunslinger, seriously. And So Far Away, because if you listen to it with this fic in mind... it's just so powerful. Particularly if you've lost a loved one as well, because it's just so... Urgh. Fantastic. Beautiful. Gorgeous. And if you don't mind a bit of... Rock? Metal? Whatever A7X actually are (I'd say you can't sum them us a whole because each song's a bit different), then you should absolutely check out Welcome to the Family, because its lyrcs are so freaking true- "And in a way it seems there's no one to call when our thoughts are so numb and our feelings unsure, we all have emptiness inside, we all have answers to find... But you can't win this fight." I just... Words fail me. Or there's Nightmare- "You should have known the price of evil, and it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah. No one to call, everybody to fear, your tragic fate is looking so clear... It's your fucking nightmare!"**_

_**Oh my God, and then there's this bit in Danger Line... "Now I find myself in my own blood, the damage done is far beyond repair. I never put my faith in up above, but now, I'm hoping someone's there... I never meant to leave this world alone, I never meant to hurt the ones who cared. And all on this time I thought we'd just grow old, you know, no one said it's fair... Tell my baby girl that it's alright, I've sung my last song today. Remind the Lord to leave his light on, for me... I'm free."**_

_**Powerful shit.**_

_**Yeah, I'm going now. Stick around for Luxury Boosh though, if you're interested. I'd love some reviews on that since I haven't got a great deal of confidence in it.**_

_**So bye-bye, and I'll see you tomorrow for another update ;). Love ya all, and don't forget to review ;).**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Well, it's time for more of my bullsh- Uh, I mean another chapter.**_

_**Basically, I thought I'd do my next post NOW, because I'm rather gutted in general. See, I'd finally got to sleep an hour ago, but I sleep on my couch because a) there's stuff on the bed and I'm far too lazy to move it and b) I can watch the 'Boosh until I fall asleep since there are no plug sockets near the bed for the telly to go. And then it's still playing when I finally drift off, so I often dream about it too as my subconscious absorbs it all xD. But as a result of sleeping on something with not much space, I kind of... fell off. And then I couldn't get back to sleep because it's far too hot in my stupid flat :L.**_

_**So I'm well tired, and probably up for the day now, so I might as well post. Ya know?**_

_**Something else that's really important before I update. The first part of this chapter, the bit right up to when Vince arrives in heaven (I've rather given shit away there. I'm sorry) was the first part of this fic that I ever wrote.**_

_**See, I was listening to Gunslinger, by Avenged Sevenfold, and Mighty Boosh was on, obviously, and I was just like 'let's write a fic'. So I did. I wrote the first part of this chapter. So basically, it's all inspired by Gunslinger, and I feel that it's best enjoyed whilst listening to it. So please, I beg of you, CHECK GUNSLINGER OUT. Honestly, it's a beautiful song, and it's the whole reason this story came about, and I just love it so much words cannot describe.**_

_**Without Avenged Sevenfold, you would not have this fic ;). Because after I wrote this, I wanted to explore the entire backstory around it, expand on it.**_

_**Obviously, I've edited the first part somewhat to fit in with the rest, but the essence is the same. It's not exactly right now, because I had to make so many alterations, and it doesn't fit perfectly with the song, but if you listen to the lyrics at least, they're just... They're so perfect for this I may have an attack over it xD.**_

_**'Nuff said :).**_

* * *

Vince sat out the back of the shop, on the square of grass that the bouncy castle had once sat on. He toyed with the bottle in his hand, eyeing the tiny amount of blue liquid that lay inside. The draught of living death.

Everything had to be timed precisely right. Vince had exactly an hour to find Howard and make it through the gateway before the potion would begin to poison him. Half an hour after that, he would be dead for good.

Which was terribly unhelpful, because he didn't know where Howard was, nor where the gateway would be opened. Naboo had promised him that it would be opened as close to him as they could manage, but it would be difficult for them to track him if he was on the move and so he needed to be mindful that it could be hard to find his way out. But he wasn't worried.

Best case scenario- he and Howard both made it back alive. Worst case scenario- they both stayed dead. Either way, they would be together again, and that was good enough for Vince.

The other problem was that the gateway was only going to be active for five minutes, tops. Any longer, Dennis had warned, and the world could fall in chaos. Or something like that. If he was honest, Vince hadn't really been listening. He had been too caught up in his own thoughts. Fantasies of what it would be like to reunite with his best friend. Worries about everything that could go wrong.

With a sigh, he leaned his head back and looked up. From here, he could see the rooftop, where he and Howard had shared a kiss. Where all the unsaid things had finally been spoken, and then promptly forgotten about. Were there feelings? Most likely. But they were best left unexplored, and so that night had never been mentioned again. Vince was alright with that. He had been happy with his life as it was, and he knew it was best not to complicate things. And they had spent so much time together that it had been enough. Vince didn't need any more, and he was pretty sure that Howard didn't either.

It seemed like so long ago now. It had only been a couple of weeks before Howard's suicide, but it felt like years had passed. He was so alone without Howard, and he only hoped that his friend felt it too. Maybe it would be enough for him to give Vince a second chance.

Would he tell Howard how he had felt during his absence? Something told Vince that this would only hurt him more. But it might be enough to get him back. If he could just show him how much he needed him...

He wouldn't question Howard. He wouldn't call him out on his suicide. He would accept it, silently supporting him. He wouldn't push him to talk about it if he didn't want to. This was his last chance, he knew, and he was just grateful to have it. He couldn't screw it up like he did with everything else. He had been wishing, _praying_, for so long. Nothing mattered, so long as he could be with Howard again. Nothing.

Naboo popped his head around the back door.

"Vince? It's time."

"Alright," Vince said, nodding to himself. "Naboo? You know if this goes wrong... If I die..." He wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

"I know," Naboo said simply. "It's alright, you don't need to say anything."

"No, it's not alright. Just... Thanks for everything you've done for me. And... and thank the Shaman Council on my behalf, yeah?"

"Okay."

"You're like a brother to me, Naboo. I love you. And can you tell Bollo I love him too?"

Naboo simply nodded. Vince knew, or hoped, that the shaman cared for him in the same way, but he wouldn't express himself because in spite of all his other talents, he was simply no good with emotions.

"I'll leave you alone, yeah?"

And then Naboo was gone.

Vince's eyes travelled upward once more, past the roof this time and up to the night sky. If there was one thing he would miss, it would be the stars. They were truly beautiful, a miracle of nature. But he was more than willing to give them up for Howard.

They were brighter than normal that night, like little beacons of light. Lamps, floating in the sky. The moon was huge and full. If he listened really hard, straining his ears, he could hear it jabbering some nonsense over the general noise of the city. Vaguely, he wondered if anyone else could hear it.

Then he took a deep breath and raised the bottle to his lips.

The potion burned. His insides were on fire. But he gritted his teeth and focused on the stars he loved so much, reminding himself over and over again that it was worth it. What was a little sacrifice like pain in light of everything he had done? He wanted his second chance so badly he would have done anything for it. And there were more painful ways he had considered killing himself, he reasoned.

And then rational thought faded along with the pain. The light from the stars was expanding and Vince was floating. He drifted toward them, a strange calm settling over him. He didn't move, or try to speak. He didn't even blink.

The stars were guiding him to heaven. To Howard.

And then he was lost in a sea of white. But he didn't mind. It was comforting. Warm. Welcoming. It swirled around him, lapping at him, lulling him into a sense of security that he hadn't felt since he was a small child.

Just like that, it began to recede. The light shrunk back, revealing grass, trees, a hillside. It settled back into the sky, forming those little pinpricks once more.

Vince smiled to himself. There were stars in heaven.

The calm washed away, and he suddenly remembered why he was there. He lowered his gaze and looked around him. To his right sat a forest. To his left, at the foot of the hill, was the outskirts of a city. He stared down at it, stunned.

It was beautiful.

Vince had never really seen cities as pretty before. He had seen them as noise, and light, and life, and that was it. But this... This was something else.

It looked normal. But it was brightly lit, and he could see people milling about. Tall buildings grazed the sky. Bright billboards stood high above the streets. Cars drove along the roads. In fact, the only thing that struck him as odd was the way it suddenly began. There was no build up to the centre of the city. As soon as he reached the foot of the hill, he would find himself straight in the middle of the hustle and bustle.

Not that it was busy. There was life everywhere, but it wasn't noisy. There was no pollution in the air. The cars were quiet and the people were even quieter. It was almost eerie in a way, but refreshing.

Vince began to descend the hill, following a gravel path. His boots crunched pleasantly with each step. He felt light, almost like he might drift away if he didn't concentrate. But it was a pleasant sensation.

At first, he didn't know where to go. He just followed a random street. People passed him like ghosts. They were all smiling. Cheerful. Everyone was happy.

It took him a full five minutes before realising that it would be almost impossible to just bump into Howard by chance. He was reluctant to stop anyone- they all walked with such purpose, like they knew exactly what they were doing. Their confidence kind of freaked him out. But it had to be done, otherwise he would never reach his goal. His Howard.

"Excuse me?" he called to a young blonde on the opposite side of the street. Idly, he wondered how she had died- she looked to be no more than eighteen.

"Yeah?" she asked with a smile as he crossed over to her.

"I don't suppose you know where I can find Howard Moon?" It was a long shot, he knew. But to his surprise, her grin widened and she pointed to the top of a nearby building.

"Him?"

Howard's face was plastered onto a billboard, a saxophone to his lips. The caption read 'Maverick Howard Moon, now playing at Planet Jazz'.

"Wow. Uh... what's Planet Jazz?"

"A club, over on the other side of town. I'd hail a cab if I were you- his gig starts soon."

"How do you know?"

"I've already been to see him. He's brilliant!"

Vince found himself grinning in spite of himself. Howard's dreams had finally come true then.

"Alright. Cheers."

And with that, he headed off back in the direction of a main road he had passed earlier.

It took him fifteen minutes to hail a taxi and arrive at the venue. Forty minutes left maximum.

As soon as he entered the club, the sounds of jazz assaulted his ears. But for once, there was no bad reaction. No neck swelling, no headaches, no inexplicable anger toward the music. He just felt... indifferent. In fact, he could almost recognise whoever was playing as good.

And then he froze in the doorway, gawking at the stage.

It was Howard, clearly in his element. He was playing the sax brilliantly, even if it was jazz, and he looked so... So relaxed. Free. Happy.

Vince just stared. There wasn't much else he could do.

After all the pain, all the grief, all the loneliness, he had finally done it. He was moments away from speaking to Howard again. Touching him. Talking to him.

He allowed his friend to finish his set. There was no way he was going to interrupt him. Not when he was doing so well. This took a good ten minutes. Half an hour left.

And then it was over, and Howard came from the stage to speak to the crowd. Vince watched him make his way around the room, itching to approach him, but suddenly finding himself unsure. But, when Howard finally reached the back row, bending over a table to sign an autograph, Vince couldn't contain himself any longer.

He rushed forward, barrelling into his friend and wrapping his arms tightly around him from behind. Vince could almost _taste_ his confusion, it was so strong. But then Howard looked down at his sparkly sleeve and suddenly tensed up.

"Vince?"

"Alright, Howard?"

He didn't let go. He thought his heart might burst- he was so unbelievably happy. A wide grin spread across his face and tears stung at his eyes. He didn't _want_ to let go.

"Is- is it really you?"

"'Course it is."

There was an awkward silence. Vince simply breathed in Howard's scent. He smelt so comforting. So familiar. So real.

"Hey, Howard?" he said, to break the tension. "I'm taking you from behind."

And then they both started to laugh, at how ridiculous and awkward the moment was more than at Vince's joke. But just like that, the tension evaporated and Vince let go, allowing Howard to turn to face him. His friend sized him up, a hand gripping the top of each of his arms, and the mirth faded from his expression.

"Are you dead, Vince?"

"Kind of. But not really. It's difficult to explain."

Someone else was starting up on the stage now and some of his words were lost in the noise.

"Let's go somewhere we can talk," Howard said loudly, decisively. He made for the door and Vince followed quickly, eager not to let him get away again. He hardly dared believe it was real, but there was still work to be done. Everything wasn't fixed yet. If Howard was happy here, it would be difficult to convince him to return home. But if that was the case, Vince was happy to stay. It wasn't so bad here, anyway, and he knew that if he returned without Howard, the voices would close in again and he would probably end up back within a few weeks anyway.

That thought was frightening, so he pushed it aside. For the moment, he was happy, and now all that mattered was trying to show Howard just how sorry he was.

"Where are we going?" Vince asked, as Howard led him around the corner.

"There's an all-night ice-cream parlour just down here."

"I thought you didn't like ice-cream? You said it made you feel fat."

"But this is heaven, Vince. Ice-cream has no calories."

Vince grinned. "No way! That is genus!"

Howard smiled back, clearly pleased to see Vince again. And then, just for a moment, Vince dared to believe that everything might turn out alright after all.

He prayed he wasn't wrong.

* * *

_**M'kay? Update xD.**_

_**You may now have a fangirl fit because of the general fantasticness of Howard and Vince being reunited ;).**_

_**Well, don't get too excited, because you still don't know whether dear ol' Howard is going to go home with poor ol' Vince.**_

_**But I do ;). I know what happens, I know what happens, nyah! *Sticks tongue out childishly*.**_

_**Yeah, so thanks to my reviewers, yet again. If it weren't for you guys, I probably would have abandoned this, because... Well, I don't know. I just give up on everything sooner or later- I'm rubbish like that :P. But seriously, thank you so much- you make me so happy it's unbelieveable :D.**_

_**Well, BatsNotDogs, I've PMd you, because I had to tell you immediately how much your gorilla rambings made me laugh ;). And also, there was so much to reply to, so I thought a PM was best... otherwise my AN would be about a mile long :L.**_

_**And AlKiMi, this does not mean I love you any less, simply because I didn't PM you! I still appreciate your support more than words can say, yeah? :D. And thank you so much for thinking my writing's hilarious :). Because I don't get "hilarious" often. Usually I get "strange" or "unusual", but never hilarious, so thanks for that :D. And I bet you knew this was the direction thigs were going to take. And have no fear, because there's still about three more chapters to come, and then a sequel to boot! How about that, eh? :D. Cheers again! :D.**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Hello everyone. I suppose I'd best explain my absence, eh?**_

_**Well basically, my laptop crashed. And I've lost EVERYTHING. All my files. All my stories. All my chapters. Gone. Up in smoke. Poof.**_

_**Angry? Yes. Upset? Yes. Distraught? Definitely.**_

_**So basically, I've had to re-write this from memory. Which is irritating, because I had it perfect, at last, and this one is less-than, so I apologise for that.**_

_**It's also kind of rushed, because I wanted to get it up and posted ASAP. But it's here, at least, and that is something :).**_

_**So please, enjoy :).**_

* * *

Vince stared down at his ice-cream sundae in delight. Raspberry bootlaces, popping candy and chocolate sauce- genius! He didn't even have to order. It was just placed in front of him by an attractive waitress.

He shot his friend a questioning look when he realised that Howard had no toppings. Howard merely shrugged.

"They serve you with your favourite. I prefer my ice-cream plain."

Vince nodded his understanding and dipped his spoon into the dessert. There was a moment of deliberation before he shovelled it into his mouth- what could it hurt? He had come this far, found Howard, and for the first time in a long time, he was feeling alright. And he was in the afterlife for God's sake. Surely it wouldn't affect him here?

As the taste washed over his tongue, he didn't regret his decision. It was simply the best thing he had ever eaten, hands down.

Then Vince caught Howard's expectant gaze. He had explained the potion and the gateway, before being interrupted by the arrival of their sundaes. Now his friend wanted the rest of the tale.

"I suppose you want to know why I'm here," he offered.

"Yes, the question had crossed my mind."

"I bet it has." Vince grinned. He had missed their banter.

"Get on with it then."

"I will, if you stop talking!" Vince allowed himself a moment to take a deep breath, becoming serious. "I've come to get you back, Howard."

"Vince..."

"Let me finish. Look, I know you didn't have the best life back on Earth. I get that now. But if you come back with me, things will change. I swear. And I don't think you realise what an important part of my life you were. Are," he corrected. "You've got to come back. I miss you, Howard."

The older man became very interested in his ice-cream. Vince gazed at him pleadingly, waiting for his answer.

"I don't know," Howard said slowly. "I mean... it's complicated."

"No, it's not," Vince insisted. "It's easy. I know I haven't been the best of mates, but that's going to change. I'll be there for you this time, and I'll do everything the way I should have done the first time round. We'll be a team again, yeah? Like in the old days."

"Did you get my message, Vince?"

Vince was taken off-guard by how out-of-the-blue the question was.

"Yeah," he responded.

"Then you should know that it wasn't anything you've done."

"But it was though, wasn't it?"

Vince sounded so dejected, so down-trodden that he surprised even himself. He looked away, eating more to give himself something to do.

"You don't understand." Howard was looking again now, so Vince forced himself to meet his eyes.

"Then help me to."

The rare eye-contact was broken as Howard turned away again.

"It's not you. If it wasn't for you, this would have happened years ago. It's everyone else. I mean, some occasional support couldn't go amiss," he said directly, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. Vince had to avert his eyes once more. He swore he could feel a slight blush creeping into his cheeks for the first time in years. Howard continued though, and so he looked back. "But all people do is put me down, and every time it's a little bit harder to get back up. I can't go through that again."

"Then people are stupid," Vince said decisively. He checked the watch Naboo had loaned him. Ten minutes. The gateway would be opening soon. "Listen, Howard. Everyone's got to deal with crap, yeah? And you've taken more crap than the rest of us put together. _And_ you've taken it all alone. But this time will be different, I promise, because I'll be there. I'll pick you up when you need it, defend you when someone starts, back you up with anything you want to do. I'll give you the encouragement you need. I'll be a real friend."

A hush fell over the table as both parties began to eat silently.

"What do you think?" Vince prompted at last.

There was a moment's hesitation.

"I think you should go back without me."

The words were said with weight, like Howard was resigning himself to something.

Yet another lull as Vince digested the words.

"No," he said eventually, voice low.

Howard sighed.

"It's my turn to talk now, so you'd better listen. Vince, you're better off without me. And I mean that. Look- I'm even ruining your life now I'm not in it. You need to go through that gateway on your own. And then move on with your life, yeah? You've got to stop dwelling on the past. My life's finished now, and that's the way it should stay. It's best for everyone."

Each word felt like a needle to Vince's heart, pricking and pricking until he couldn't stand it. How could Howard say that? He wanted to scream in his face, shout at him for being so hard on himself, yell everything he had been waiting to say since he had found that text all those weeks ago.

But instead he settled for reaching out to place a hand on Howard's arm. For once, he wasn't snapped at to let go, and it was then that Vince realised how upset and vulnerable his friend was at that moment. Even the afterlife couldn't fix Howard Moon completely.

"There's no way I'm leaving without you, even if it means that I'll die. Because at least we'll be together, yeah? And then I can show you just how much I understand. I was an awful friend and I want a chance to fix it. That's all I'm asking."

Vince checked his watch again. Five minutes. It would be appearing any time now.

While he waited for Howard's response, he rolled up his sleeves. The watch was catching on his cuff, and while it was hardly the most pressing matter of the moment, it was fairly distracting.

Too late, he realised his mistake.

"Vince!" Howard cried, grabbing his arm. "What have you done?"

"Nothing!" Vince said defensively, dragging it back.

"You've slashed yourself up. That's not nothing, sir!"

The brief almost-argument fizzled into silence. Then Howard spoke, softly this time.

"This was because of me, yeah?"

"No!" Vince replied quickly. Then he paused. "It's because you died, but it's not your fault. It's my fucked-up head. I told you, Howard. I can't function without you."

Yet again, there was no immediate response from the older man. He simply spooned ice-cream into his mouth thoughtfully.

To their right, the mirror on the wall opposite began to shimmer. Vince's heart plummeted.

"That's the gateway. Please, Howard?"

Still nothing. But Vince knew he had registered the words. Eventually, he spoke, slowly and carefully.

"You know, I've been wondering if I made the right decision. The afterlife's alright, but when you're here, all the pain and misery... It goes away. And you can see your life objectively again." Howard looked across at Vince. "It wasn't so bad. But when I was really there, living it... It felt awful. And I don't want to feel like that again. But I'm lonely here, and the atmosphere gets old quickly. All the smiles, the cheerfulness. It grates on you."

Vince's heart was pounding in his chest. What was Howard trying to say?

His friend continued, quicker this time.

"I miss you here, Vince. But I'd convinced myself that I was better off. Or more specifically, that _you_ were. I didn't think you'd want me back. I told myself again and again that you were happier. I didn't think for one second that anything like this would happen. If I did..."

Howard trailed off. He didn't need to finish his thought.

"I'm sorry, Vince."

Then, he stood.

"Where are you going?" Vince asked, panic rising. He wasn't just going to walk away was he? Because if he did, that would decide both of their fates. Howard would walk away, Vince would follow him and the gateway would close. But it wouldn't matter so much, because they would have each other again. It just wouldn't be as good as being together _and_ alive. But Vince would be able to deal with that, wouldn't he?

The next words out of Howard's mouth made Vince's fears melt away.

"Home. Are you coming?"

And then, as the older man smiled, Vince leapt up and hugged him. He just couldn't help himself.

His Howard was coming home.

* * *

_**Woo! Howard's going home! Ah, I've known that for weeks ;).**_

_**Uhrm... yes. Reviews. Seriously, you guys? Wow. I love you :D. Basically, I completely forgot to finish my AN in the last chapter and as a result, I didn't even ask you to review. But you did anyway, didn't you, you little rascals? ;).**_

_**Thank you!**_

_**AlKiMi- Thank you so much :). You're so kind :D. I do try my best, just for you lovely lot ;). I was really shaky on that chapter to be honest, I'm not sure if I really like it after I had to change so much, but you have rekindled my faith in it, so thanks :D. Just... I don't really know what else to say really. Just... Thank you, genuinely :).**_

_**BatsNotDogs- Ah, you peanut, reviewing the wrong chapter ;). Well, I assume that 'anon' review was you. It's a logical conclusion to make, anyway ;). If not, barely anything in here will actually be relevant to you xD. Thank you yet again though, for your lovely words of general kindness :D. I was kinda writing the afterlife how I'd like it to be, to be honest, so yeah! It's my dream to have completely zero-calorie ice-cream xD. I ADORE B&J's as well, particularly Cookie Dough (SO amazing) and that Phish-whatever one, with little chocolate fishies and marshmallow xD. If I could, I would eat it for every meal. Ice-cream, I mean. I'll even buy a 99 in pouring rain, much to my family's horror xD. Sorry, you got me going on an ice-cream tangent there :L. And good Lord, don't even get me started on A7x. That "YEAHHHHH, YEAHHHHH," bit is, like, my favourite bit of any song. Ever xD. And I'm still going to check out the Officers, by the way ;). But my internet connection is screwed, so no YouTube D:. I shall steal my daddy's laptop when I go visiting... *Evil face*. Uh yeah... but cheers for the review, I really appreciate your kindness! :D.**_

_**Well, I have several very good reasons why I need cheering up with reviews. Here they are, in the order in which they happened ;).**_

_**BAFTAs. Sherlock was ROBBED. By CELBRITY JUICE, of all things. This is truly gutting. I may not survive for much longer :/.**_

_**And then Benedict Cumberbatch didn't win in his category. What the hell? Absolute bollocks.**_

_**AND THEN, my laptop crashed a few short hours afterward.**_

_**AND THEN, the next day, the laptop repair guy said he couldn't save my documents.**_

_**AND THEN, the day after, my laptop was fixed but I had no money to pick it up.**_

_**AND THEN, today, my step-brother threatened to snap my Mighty Boosh DVD. Series Two as well. Ridiculous.**_

_**AND I STILL DON'T HAVE MY EFFING SHOES xD.**_

_**Although, some good things have happened.**_

_**I'm now going to proceed to list them.**_

_**BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AND MATT SMITH. ON MY TELLY. TOGETHER. SIDE BY SIDE. GIVING A BAFTA TO THE COMPLETELY AMAZING STEPHEN MOFFAT. SHERLOCK AND THE DOCTOR, AND ALL THEIR BEAUTIFULNESS. AND STEPHEN MOFFAT, AND ALL HIS GENIUSNESS.**_

_**Andrew Scott, AKA Jim Moriarty, won a BAFTA too. Totally deserved. He is an amazing guy :D.**_

_**The thought has also occurred to me that there should be an award for 'Best Cheekbones'. Matt Smith and Benedict Cumberbatch could battle it out. They could have a cheekbone-off. And Noel Fielding might even get involved. Amazing! Just imagine it!**_

_**I just had a McDonald's. Yum.**_

_**Uh... that actually might be literally everything good that's happened in the past few days. Just parts of the BAFTAs and my thoughts. And my awful diet xD.**_

_**Oh, and the moon is beautiful. I mean, the real moon. Like, properly beautiful. I can't believe I've never really looked xD. Although it doesn't talk, which is a downside.**_

_**Oh yeah, and Emilehh is dragging me onto Britain's Got Talent. Which should go well. We've got a double-act going, see. We write together, act together, and... that's about it. I had a phone conversation with her today and we mostly talked about getting into cupboards. I say we. **_**I****_ mostly talked about getting into cupboards. And she talked about mind-palaces. Like, most people (if they use that technique as a device for remembering) have a mind-garden, or a mind-house or something like that. But Sherlock has a mind-palace. And I told her that I developed a mind-house, for remembering things, and it currently consists of a dining room with a wardrobe and a painting in it. And I explained that I often just get into the wardrobe. Which is actually kind of true. I have explored that possibility._**

_**I also informed her that I've attempted to fit inside every cupboard in my flat at some point when I've been totally bored. Which is also true. I almost succeeded too, but one of them has a rather inconvenient shelf right in the middle, and I could fit if the shelf wasn't there, but don't stand a chance since it's all nailed in. Gutted? Yes, yes I am.**_

_**Oh, and then I think she went and got into HER cupboard when we were on the phone, because I was on speaker, and there was a door slam and her voice went all muffled and distant. She denies this, but I don't believe her ;).**_

_**And then I stalked her by going to meet her from her dance lesson, which is right near where I live and she NEVER BOTHERED TO TELL ME that it was so close.**_

_**And then we bought an ice-cream at like, half eight at night when it was getting all cold outside. And we were on Blackpool Promenade, which is freezing come evening time since the wind comes straight off the sea and the sun's buggered off home.**_

_**AND I FOUND A LOLLIPOP IN MY POCKET!**_

_**So I've had a well good day, actually xD.**_

_**Me and Emilehh are SO the next 'Boosh ;).**_

_**I'm sorry, I just felt I had to recount my entire life's story there. I do apologise. I'm well happy today xD. I'm all talkative and excited :L.**_

_**So I'm gonna go, and leave you to your lives, yeah?**_

_**Alrighty. So please, please review and I'll see you all next time, huh? :D.**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Hello! How is everyone?**_

_**Second to last chapter!**_

_**I have now rewritten everything of importance, aside from Luxury Boosh, so I shall get right onto that tomorrow, and post then, yeah?**_

_**Until then, please enjoy this... sort of happy-as-my-story gets chapter xD.**_

* * *

Vince had thought that it was his reunion with Howard that cured all the bad that had built up within him, but it turned out that he was wrong. As soon as they stepped through the mirror and found themselves in Naboo's bedroom, the full weight of his depression and self-hatred came back for him, and for a moment it was overwhelming, crushing even.

But after a moment, he was able to reshuffle his thoughts and push everything away, to be dealt with later. When he had collected himself, he looked to Howard, who was peering at him in concern.

"Everything alright Vince?"

"Yeah. I just went a bit weird. It's gone now."

He shot Howard the brightest smile he could muster, but it faltered as his stomach began to churn unpleasantly. Now he was back on Earth, he was really beginning to regret the sundae. His body was not happy with him for forcing this sudden change of eating habits upon it, and now he felt undeniably ill.

Still, he had to push through it. Howard didn't even suspect the half of his fractured soul.

"I'll put the kettle on, yeah?" Vince offered. He wanted an excuse to get away from his friend's scrutinising gaze. "I bet nothing in the afterlife compares to a cup of my tea."

Without waiting for an answer, he left. When in the kitchen, he flicked the kettle on and rested his head against the cool door of the fridge.

'_Get it together,_' he warned himself mentally. '_Don't go falling apart in front of Howard._'

There was a note from Naboo, so he lifted his head and peeled it from the door, scanning it quickly.

_Vince,_

_Gone to bury your old body. Will explain when I get back. Hope you both made it home alright._

_Naboo._

Vince didn't really understand, but he decided it wasn't that important and so discarded the paper on the kitchen island, where it was scooped up almost instantly by Howard, who read it swiftly.

"Note from Naboo," he commented.

"Yeah. No idea what he's on about."

Opening his mouth made Vince feel even more sick, so he clamped it shut, turning away from Howard so the older man couldn't see his expression. There was no way he could maintain his act _and_ hang on to the contents of his stomach.

With shaking hands, he filled a cup with tea and dropped two sugars in it, letting Howard talk. There was nothing for him- he wouldn't be able to hold it down at that moment in time.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Vince shook his head, glancing back at his flatmate.

"Well you took the potion out in the garden, yeah? But when you came back, you were in a new body. So the body in the garden would have been poisoned, but you're still living because you've got that body. So there's two of you now, but one of you is dead. Make sense?"

"No," Vince replied simply.

"It's like how I'm six feet under somewhere and yet I'm right here."

The simplicity of the wording chilled Vince, but he didn't let it show.

"Hmm."

When Vince glanced at Howard again, he saw the confusion at his short replies.

"Are you sure you're okay, Vince?"

Vince turned to look at Howard directly, intending to smile, assure him he was alright, make everything as normal as possible. He had always considered himself to be a good actor, getting away with anything when he needed to.

But he knew he couldn't fool Howard. He never had been able to. And if he lied, it would only lead to a lengthy discussion he had no energy for. So he gave in before he had even begun.

"I feel a bit sick," he admitted. This was a complete understatement.

"You should have said. Do you want anything for it? I don't know what we've got, but there must be something..."

Vince shook his head, no, and it was this motion that tipped him over the edge. As he opened his mouth to speak, saliva flooded in and he could no longer control himself. He leant forward and emptied the ice-cream that had made its way from heaven onto the kitchen tiles.

He thought his knees might give way he felt so weak, so he steadied himself with one hand clutching the island and the other grabbing onto the side by the cooker.

Almost instantly, Howard was fussing around him. He guided a trembling Vince to the couch, forced him to sit, and fetched him a glass of water. Then he set about cleaning up, eventually making his tea and joining his younger friend.

"I'm sorry, Howard," Vince sighed.

"What for, Little Man?"

In spite of himself, Vince smiled. He had missed that nickname more than he cared to admit.

"I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you. Not the other way around."

"Who says? Howard Moon doesn't need to be taken care of. No, sir!"

"Yeah, but things were meant to be different this time. You weren't supposed to have to look after me like this any more."

Howard sighed.

"I don't mind, Vince. I _like_ taking care of you, sometimes. When you aren't being a little shit."

This last bit was accompanied by a smile. Vince smiled back automatically.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's nice to have a bit of purpose around here."

"But if things are going to be like they were before, won't you get all unhappy again?"

Howard shifted in his seat, staring into his tea for a moment before replying.

"I don't know. We'll see how things go, eh? Right now, I'm still feeling pretty alright, so let's not dwell on it just yet. And maybe... later down the line, I'll have to go to the doctor. See about some antidepressants or something. Although I suppose I'm legally dead by now, so I'm not sure how I'll manage that."

"Naboo can sort it out," Vince said automatically. Howard didn't bother to ask whether he meant the antidepressants or the paperwork, which was lucky, because Vince wasn't even sure which he meant. Probably both. Naboo could do anything.

They sat in amiable silence for a while, sipping at their drinks and both lost in deep thought. Eventually, Vince spoke.

"I might go to bed. I'm knackered."

This was true. He was exhausted, in fact. It had been a long day, and all he wanted to do was sleep it off and start afresh tomorrow. Howard seemed to share this sentiment.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed. "Coming back to life is surprisingly tiring."

He smiled yet again. Was this what not-depressed Howard was like? Always smiling? Because if that was the case, he must have been miserable since they had first met, and that just didn't seem right.

But Vince didn't want to think about it, so he stood and made his way to the hallway, Howard following. While Howard vanished into the bathroom, Vince simply collapsed onto his bed. All of a sudden, he felt like lead. He couldn't even be bothered to get changed.

Howard reappeared after a moment. Vince smiled tiredly, and for once it was genuine. He was so happy to have his friend back, despite everything else going on in his mind. And he was so lucky.

"Night, Howard. Make sure you're still here tomorrow, yeah? I'm glad you're back."

"Goodnight, Vince. I'm glad I'm back too."

Vince just grinned his agreement, his eyes already closing. He mustered the last of his energy to roll over to face the wall, and then he was asleep, still smiling to himself.

* * *

_**Uh... did'ja think it was all over? No, no, no, silly reader. Where's the fun it that?**_

_**I've been reading Doctor Who fics for about three hours, so my eyes have gone all funny-like and I'm well tired, but I now have a rekindled love for the fandom, so I'm well happy. There are some truly amazing authors knocking about in there :).**_

_**AlKiMi- Thank you for reviewing and being so wonderfully nice, yet again, even after I left you hanging for a good couple o' days :D. I know, I felt a bit mean giving Howard no toppings (I presume that's what you mean when you say it's sad), but I thought he'd be boring like that, and as long as it makes him happy... xD. There wasn't much love between them in this one, I don't really think- I'm sorry :P. But there's a bit of lovely old hurt/comfort in the next chapter that I hope will suffice? :D.**_

_**Also, isn't it rude when someone texts you a question, and then inconveniently falls asleep before you can reply? Well rude. I knew you'd agree. You hear that Emilehh? Rudeness ;).**_

_**And I've just started to eat, but I'm currently the least hungry person in Britain. Which is really unhelpful, because now I feel sick. Ah, the carefree days when I could eat limitless amounts of chocolate and not feel ill. Still, I can eat tons of sweets. And do, in fact. You know what they say... A jelly snake a day and all that. Honestly. Jelly snakes are well addictive xD. I love 'em :L. So I've figured out my problem. I'm constantly loaded on E-numbers. Which is the way life should be lived, I feel :D.**_

_**Oh, and I don't like birthdays. I have decided. It's mine three week today (uh... it's two in the morning. Yesterday, I suppose), and it's gonna be crap. Guaranteed. So I have a cunning plan (Blackadder reference xD)- I'm going to be so drunk I can't stand. I mean, I'm only gonna be seventeen, but the parents bought loads of beer for my step-brother's seventeenth last month, so there's no way they can't do the same for me.**_

_**I'll be kicked out of my flat by then too, so I'll be homeless. Homeless and drunk. Yup, I'm living the life ;).**_

_**Well, I have a very good reason why I need reviews, yet again. Depression has reared it's ugly head and I'm finding myself rather lonely and sad right now. And by lonely, I MEAN lonely. Emilehh is the only person in my everyday life I care to speak to. Ever. 'Cause I'm anti-social like that and my family are rubbish xD. But she is currently asleep and I do so hate to unload my problems on her anyway, so they usually go un-shed. So I'm upset, I'm feeling fairly sick of my life (to be honest, it sounds over-dramatic, but it's so empty it's frightening :L) and for once I'm finding it difficult to laugh it off. So reviews really wouldn't go amiss right now ;).**_

_**I won't whine any more, I swear xD. Sometimes it's just helpful to tell someone, but I'm really starting to over-abuse the author's note, and for that I apologise ;).**_

_**Just to lighten the mood- my four-year-old stepsister told me earlier that I was her new bed and my step-brother was her new servant. And then, when asked, she said "I'll bang you out," (her exact words xD) if we didn't comply.**_

_**And then she asked me if the baby moth on the ceiling was looking for his mummy and daddy, and she sounded so sad about it. So I cheerfully told her that he wasn't a baby really, he was just a really small teenager, and he was on his first holiday without his parents. And then she was all "The daddy long legs came with him, didn't he?"**_

_**And then we both kind of realised what she had said and shat ourselves because we both hate spiders. And spiders that can fly? What is wrong with the universe? I mean, spiders are easy enough to deal with- just give them a wide berth and they go away. But flying spiders zoom about and get all up in your business with their legs and their wings and... Urgh. Just... Just urgh.**_

_**I love her though. She is so sweet it's unbelievable. And a right little shit sometimes, but so cute she can get away with it xD.**_

_**Oh, and the parents bought her some really sweet new shoes. Plimsols, all decorated with bright colours. And they go so well with her little red skinny jeans. I'm so happy her mother has finally started to dress her right xD.**_

_**But that does beg the question- why can't I have new shoes? Mine have been missing for AGES now, and I'm gutted about it. I mean, I seriously abuse my shoes. They're subjected to all sorts of climbing and splashing in puddles and kicking things, 'cause I'm about three inside and I still love playing on the park and climbing walls and shit xD. And I draw all over them, because I get all artistic like that ;). But still... I NEED new shoes. Seriously. Some boots this time, maybe. I like boots. They make you feel all confident and you kind of strut about, like 'look! I have boots! Boots constructed from sheer awesomeness!' and you get well happy xD.**_

_**Why don't I have new boots?**_

_**Sorry, this has turned out way longer than anticipated. But yeah... please review, pretty please, and I'll... I don't know. I'll give you... something. Something metaphorical, most likely. But something nonetheless!**_

_**I don't know. Just review, yeah? ;).**_

_**Love ya! Cheers for reading!**_


	16. Chapter 16

**_Well, well, well, the final chapter._**

**_Enjoy everyone :)._**

* * *

When Vince woke the next morning, he barely felt rested at all. Immediately, he found himself turning to check that Howard had, in fact, been there and that it hadn't all just been another taunting dream. But there the older man was, still sleeping peacefully, and Vince's over-taxed mind was put at ease. For now.

Tiredly, he climbed from his bed and headed for the bathroom. The first thing he did was check his reflection, and he immediately regretted it.

It had escaped his notice for the past few weeks, since he had seen himself each and every day and he hadn't noticed the deterioration. But now that Howard was back, he found himself thinking of the Vince he had once been, and suddenly the change was obvious.

He looked older somehow, his innocent, child-like, wide eyes now tinged with a weariness, and a kind of deep, emotional exhaustion that he couldn't quite explain. They were lined with tiredness, dark shadows circling beneath his bottom eyelids. His skin was pale, and he looked sickly, and his face seemed even more angular than it had been before. He was getting too thin. Too bony.

This was nothing but an echo of the old Vince Noir. A ghost.

Shuddering, he moved away after quickly neatening his hair. Then he brushed his teeth, had a quick wash and went to get changed.

It took him a good ten minutes of staring into his wardrobe back in the bedroom before he decided on what to wear. The mirror-ball suit seemed the most appropriate, an easy way to capture something of his old essence. But as soon as he put it on, he decided against it. It was surprisingly loose. It showed off how much thinner he had gotten, how incredibly unhealthy he looked.

Halfway through stripping it off, Vince was startled by a loud buzzing. Trust Howard to set his alarm clock on his first night of being alive again. He tried to dive for it, to shut it up, but the damage was already done. Howard was awake.

"You're up early," he yawned, staring up at a panicked Vince. Then his eyes travelled to his bare torso. "Jesus, Vince, you've gone thin."

He managed not to wince, deciding that if there was ever a time to put his acting 'skills' to use, it was now.

Vince turned to the full-length mirror on the inside of his wardrobe door, pretending to examine himself.

"Have I?" he asked innocently. "Yeah, I suppose I have. I haven't really noticed."

Howard 'hmm'ed in the way that only Howard could. It was a 'hmm' that said that Howard really didn't believe Vince, but he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Until later, that was, when he would readdress the subject without warning in an attempt to catch him off guard.

Vince stripped and redressed quickly as Howard left the room. When the other man returned, he had just finished buckling his belt.

"That was quick," Howard remarked. "I thought you were wearing the mirror-ball suit?"

"Nah," Vince responded with a half-hearted shrug. "I've worn it loads recently. It's been done to death."

Howard 'hmm'ed again, and Vince knew that was his cue to leave. He made his way into the front room, collapsing onto the sofa and bringing his legs up to cross them. Then he rested an elbow on each thigh and buried his face in his hands, winding his fingers into his fringe.

He couldn't let Howard know what was going on. If the older man found out... Well, it could only go two ways, and neither was good. He would either blame himself, and get depressed again, or he would distance himself, unwilling to stick around to nurse the mess that was Vince.

Of course, he was going to find out sooner or later. But until then, there was only one thing Vince could do- keep pretending. He was good at it, and he had years of practise at lying, or 'acting' as he preferred to call it, so he could keep out of trouble.

'_And how long will that last?_' a malicious voice hissed in Vince's head.

Vince already knew the answer to that one, but he dreaded it.

It wouldn't last. He had already failed. Howard was suspicious, and he gave it a day, at the very best, before he caved in and told him everything. It was too much pressure, too much hassle, and far too much for him to handle on his own.

"Vince?"

Vince started at the sound of Howard's voice, and then silently cursed himself. Why was he so damn jumpy all of a sudden?

But he fixed his best blank expression in place and looked up at his friend.

"Huh?"

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

Howard shrugged, clearly choosing to change the subject.

"Don't know. Do you want breakfast?"

Vince shook his head. "No. I'm fine. I still feel a bit iffy, if anything. Best not to risk it."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

This seemed to do, for the moment. But then, as Howard began to check to see what was in, he suddenly turned back to Vince.

"Alright, Vince. What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is your shelf, yeah?"

"So?"

"So how come it's still full of sweets? Unless you've had a sudden, drastic personality change, you'd never leave cherry cola bottles or dolly mixtures untouched for more than five minutes."

Vince almost laughed. If only he knew the half of it. But he contained himself, maintaining the façade.

"Alright, calm down, Colombo. Naboo only did the shopping yesterday."

It was a good excuse. But Howard wasn't having any of it. He _knew_ there was something wrong, and he wasn't going to let it go without a fight.

"When?" he asked sarcastically. "In between shipping you off to the afterlife and burying the body?"

When he thought about it after, Vince realised that it was said as a trap. There was one, perfectly reasonable thing he could have said. 'No, in the morning'. But Howard knew that if Vince was in the state of mind he suspected, his braincell wouldn't make that leap.

He was right. Vince simply didn't respond, looking away awkwardly.

"Right," Howard said decisively. "I'm making you a bacon sandwich and you're going to eat it, even if I have to force it down your throat myself, sir!"

And he was true to his word. He made two bacon sandwiches and sat beside Vince with his own, watching the younger man choke down the other one. Finally, when every last bite was eaten, he took the plates away and Vince sat back on the couch, his stomach twisting in that familiar unpleasant sensation of sickness.

Vince had never had a particularly sensitive stomach before. It allowed him to eat sweets non-stop, switch to new diet fads and then back to his old ways every few days, and fill himself with whatever junk food took his fancy without ever allowing him to gain weight. But in return, there was always a day or two a month where Vince would feel shaky and unwell, and he wouldn't be able to hold anything down.

But now he had been messing with it for weeks, not eating, eating, and then forcing it to reject everything he had ingested. And it was not happy.

This time though, Vince couldn't lose. He couldn't just throw everything back up again, like he had been so accustomed to doing. If Howard realised what had happened... If he heard or saw...

Vince was firmly convinced it would ruin their friendship all over again, one way or another. And that really didn't bear thinking about.

He wanted to cry. Really and honestly sob at the state he was in. He hunched over, curling into a ball, willing the sickness to ease. But the taste of the bitter-sweet saliva was already in his mouth, and he knew he couldn't win.

Perhaps if he could make it long enough to get a drink, he would be alright. He would stand, walk calmly to the kitchen and fill up a glass. He would control himself. It was his body, after all. Surely it had to obey him, if he offered it no other choice?

Of course, that wasn't what happened. He stood, made it halfway to the kitchen, and then took a swift detour down the hallway and into the bathroom, barely making it to empty the bacon sandwich into the toilet bowl.

For a moment, he just hung over the toilet, breathing heavily, a hand on either side of the toilet seat to support him. But then he fell back, sitting on the floor with a dull 'thud'.

He couldn't contain himself any longer. Frightened, miserable sobs shook his body. He was scared. He was unhappy. And he was so ashamed of himself that when Howard appeared in the doorway, he couldn't even look him in the face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Please don't kill yourself again."

The beat of silence that followed was one of the worst moment's of Vince's life. All sorts of thoughts and scenarios whirled around his head. This would be the moment where Howard left him once more. He had ruined everything. He had destroyed their renewed friendship all over again, and there was nobody to blame but himself.

But then Howard's expression softened from one of shock to one of great concern.

"And why would I do that?" he asked, surprisingly gentle. And then he crossed the bathroom, sat down beside the distraught man and did something that made Vince sob even harder.

There were three occasions that Howard allowed physical contact. Christmas, Vince's birthday, and the very rare times that Vince had required his comfort. But never before had he skipped all other contact and gone straight for a hug, simply because it had never been needed more.

Vince didn't hug back. At this point, he had little control over himself. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he was at his breaking point. He couldn't take any more.

He had thought it would all get better when he found Howard. He had thought everything would go back to normal, and he would be fixed, and he would be able to fix Howard. But at that moment, he was broken, seemingly beyond repair. He needed mending more than the man who had committed suicide. And he had never been more afraid in his life.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Vince asked meekly, through the tears that refused to stop. "I've fucked everything up. It's all I know how to do."

"Calm down, Little Man. You're not a fuck-up. You're just in a bad place right now. But that's alright. I've been there too. I'll probably get there again, in fact. But we'll get through it, I promise. Together."

"A team?"

"Yeah. A team. Like always."

Vince's crying eased, and he could feel a glimmer of hope as he wrapped his arms around his friend, finally embracing back.

The two men sat on the bathroom floor for much longer than either of them realised, finally saying all the unsaid things, releasing the tension that had lingered between them since their reunion, and finally, after years of knowing each other so well, starting to _understand_ each other.

When they were finished, Vince was smiling again. It was small, but it was genuine, and it was most definitely a start. They were on the path to recovery and it was a long and rocky one, but they would make it to the end.

Howard had his Vince, Vince had his Howard, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

* * *

_**And so, dear reader, our story comes to a close. In a kind of a cliched and cheesy manner, for which I apologise. But what is an angst story without a cliched and cheesy ending, eh?**_

_**I also feel obliged to point out some continuity errors. Chapters and chapters ago, Vince found his phone in the bread bin. I didn't bother to explain that. So if you have any theories, I'd love to hear them :). Also, I don't quite get why Vince had to come back within the hour. I mean, his body ended up dying anyway, so couldn't they have opened the doorway later and allowed him extra time to find Howard?**_

_**I don't know. There are probably other rules and protocols I didn't explore. I'll leave it to your imaginations and stop picking holes in my own plot xD.**_

_**Anyway, the 'Boosh has like, no continuity anyway, so it fits right in :P. Now lets move on from the problems in my story xD.**_

_**Even as I write this, I'm a little bit drunk and more than slightly pleased that the final chapter of this story was posted on the Jubilee!**_

_**So call it a special present, if you will ;).**_

_**Well, what can I say anymore? Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed, alerted, favourited and- just as importantly- read my little fic. Without you guys, this would have been scrapped long before I finished and left to rot, incomplete. Much like Vince without Howard.**_

_**AlKiMi- I hope I've done your expectations justice with the ending- it's been a long build-up, just to get to this point! And thank you so much, because you've reviewed every chapter, I believe, and been so kind throughout :). I am indebted (I THINK it's a word) to you for your loyalty! :D.**_

_**Deanna- A new reader? So late into the story? I am most flattered :).**_

_**So, tired, drunken and feeling sad to go, I must leave you all with these words.**_

_**A special thanks to AlKiMi and BatsNotDogs for reading and reviewing so frequently.**_

_**Roy The Starfish, Concupiscence66 and Deanna- don't think your reviews have gone unappreciated either!**_

_**Another thanks to AlKiMi, BatsNotDogs and mrsmonkeyxx for favouriting :D.**_

_**Also to all the people who have alerted. I shan't list you, because there's a few, but you must know who you are! Thank you :D.**_

_**I love you all! :D.**_

_**And finally: prepare for the sequel! I will get it up as soon as possible, maybe within a week or so, if I can manage it?**_

_**So I suppose, in a way, the story hasn't finished! Perhaps it's only just begun!**_

_**Either way, it's called 'The Path To Recovery', so keep an eye out for it! Yeah?**_

_**Well, goodbye fair reader. Thank you yet again!**_


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